


Double Trouble (Sequel to Baby of the Band)

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Glam Metal, M/M, Multi, Pagan, hair metal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Summary: Six months after finally being restored to normal from the physical body of a toddler as he slept, Poison bassist Bobby Dall thought his Life was starting to look up. Sure, there were a lotta Changes within his band–starting with firing and replacing lead guitarist CC DeVille–as well as in his personal Life, but things seemed to've been leveling out at last.But to wake up once again a grown man trapped in the body of a toddler–that was surprising enough for him and his band mate-turned-roommate, drummer Rikki Rockett. So, what happens when their last band mate, front man Bret Michaels, callsta say that he hasn't heard from new member Richie Kotzen and is worried about him? Surely they're not about to find themselves with a Grade-A case ofdouble trouble,right?
Relationships: Bobby Dall/Richie Kotzen, Bret Michaels/Kelcey Morgan





	1. Chapter 1

_Los Angeles, California_

_March, 1992_

Six months after waking up normal following two months spent in the body of a toddler, Poison bassist Bobby Dall felt his Life couldn’t get any better. Sure, things with the band had gone to utter shit just Days after he’d woken up normal again, what with the backstage fight between two of his band mates that’d led to the firing of one. Sure, things were crazy for another couple months afterward as they searched for a replacement lead guitarist all over again, much like they’d done when they’d found CC DeVille back in 1985. And sure, front man Bret Michaels was still taking the heat at home, now that he’d gotten into a relationship with the mother of a surprise daughter he’d found out about last Summer. But even though things’d been beyond crazy–and that wasn’t even counting his divorce from his own wife, Mishy–things also seemed to be looking up in a weird way.

All those things considered, he’d thought the period of his Life spent as an adult trapped in a child’s body were behind him, and that he could move on. So, to wake up once again trapped in the body of a toddler in what was now his bedroom at drummer Rikki Rockett’s house was more than a bit of a surprise. That surprise’d started with trying to get outta bed–only to fall and bonk his head on the floor much like he’d done last Summer on his band’s tour bus.

Somehow managing not to cry out, Bobby pushed himself so that he was sitting on his rump, startled to look down and see much shorter legs extending from a nude torso. Just like last Time, he still had the same tats that he always did, which’d come in handy for identifying himself in a short while. Well, that was _if_ he could even get into his band and now roommate’s bedroom, given that he might very well have the door locked again. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be the case, ’cuz since he couldn’t do anything for himself without potentially getting hurt, he really didn’t wanna go hungry right now. What he _really_ wanted wasta figure out why the hell this’d happened again, and less than a Year after happening the first Time.

Grunting in an infantile manner as he managed to get to his feet, the pint-sized bassist took a few momentsta find his balance. He was just as unsteady as last Summer when the rest of his band had gotten him to attempt walking in the middle of the Wal-Mart they’d stopped at to get suppliesta care for him with. But that was fairly normal, considering that his physical age was only between a Year old and two, and that his own son’d just as much trouble with any attemptsta walk. Once he felt steady enough, he held his arms out to his sidesta help with his balance and took off toddling down the hall.

“Eh,” he grunted as he managed to get Rikki’s door open.

Luckily for him, he hadn’t locked it the Night previous, and even luckier, he kept a massive antique Cedar chest in the floor at the foot of his bed. That massive Wooden chest’d serve as a sorta step stool, which’d aid him in climbing on his friend’s bed without falling and getting hurt. Bobby already felt mighty unlucky just ’cuz of the state he’d woken up in again, so he needed all the _good_ Luck he could get right about now.

Hauling himself onto that chest, the pint-sized bassist paused to catch his breath before managing to crawl forward onto the foot of the bed. As per usual, the tallest blonde of his band was sprawled out on his back, one arm flung over his head while the other rested across his flat belly. It’d prolly be a bit hard to wake him up without having to beat him across the face, but hopefully it could be done before he wound up pissing himself. Nothing’d piss his friend off more than waking up to a soaked bed, so he forced himself to hold it since he physically couldn’t use the toilet at the moment.

“Huh–wha–” the drummer snorted when he’d to resort to whacking him across the face with the pillow next to him to wake him up.

_“Ahhhh!”_ Bobby whined, a desperate note to his voice.

“What the– _Bobby?”_ he asked, blinking sleepily as he forced his eyesta focus. “Fuck me–not again.”

The pint-sized bassist nodded since he obviously couldn’t really talk, his hands diving down between his legs as he grabbed his crotch.

“Fuck–let’s getcha to the toilet,” Rikki said, heaving a sigh as he tossed the covers off himself.

_“Ahhhh,”_ he whined again, squirming as he picked him up.

“How long’ve ya been up?” the drummer asked, squatting down as he held his lil nude form steady on the toilet seat. “Not very long?”

Bobby looked up at him, those big, brown eyes sparkling as he shook his head.

“Then we’ll go getcha some food–and some Ice for that Goose Egg on your noggin–before I head up to the attic,” he chuckled. “I guess it’s a good thing I never got rid of all that baby stuff I’d to buy for ya, huh?”

The pint-sized bassist shrugged, figuring that it’d come in handy now.

Once he’d finished up the business at hand, Rikki picked him up and gently settled him on the bathroom counter. He’d proven to be able to wash his hands without falling off or otherwise getting hurt the previous Summer, so he saw no reason why he wouldn’t be now. Besides, it’d keep him outta trouble while he was taking his own Morn piss, both of them ignoring the fact that they were in naught but their birthday suits.

With that particular need taken care of, he flushed and washed his own hands before picking up his pint-size friend again. Even Bobby thought that feeling each other’s flesh–and in some pretty intimate places for the lil guy–was a bit weird, but he was too hungry to care. He’d much rather get his grumbling lil belly filled up–and maybe that Ice pack his friend had mentioned for his head– _then_ worry about getting clothes. Granted, he knew that’d require a diaper–or at least a Pull-Up–in his case, but at least they’d both have clothes on and not have to avert their eyes at every turn.

After a quick, but filling breakfast for both of them, the drummer picked up his nekkid friend once again and headed back upstairs. This Time, he paused in the hall under the drop-down staircase that led up to the attic, which was where he’d moved all the baby supplies they’d needed last Summer, but not after his friend woke in his normal physical state. He’d grab his own clothes once he came back downstairs since he’d rather get the lil guy dressed first, if only so he wouldn’t have an accident anywhere.

“All right–let’s see here,” he said, gently setting him down. “Be careful so ya don’t get any splinters from up here.”

Nodding, the pint-size bassist stood next to the box he’d knelt down to open, not wanting to get any dust on his rump or crotch so it wouldn’t irritate his skin.

“We’ve still got all your lil Hard Rock Café shirts and whatnot,” Rikki said, pulling a few shirts out. “Andja never really seemed picky over your jeans, as long as they weren’t too tight.”

He couldn’t help a squeal as he snatched at the jeans he wanted for today, practically hugging them like a teddy bear.

“You’re such a goof, dude,” the drummer chuckled, shaking his head.

Bobby looked up and stuck his tongue out at him before going back to snuggling his pint-size jeans.

“What about a shirt?” he asked, grabbing his attention again.

_“Mmm,”_ the pint-size bassist hummed thoughtfully as he scanned his current selection. Moments later, he snatched up the lone Harley-Davidson shirt that’d been pulled out.

“All right, we’ll take everything else downstairsta run through the laundry,” Rikki said, plucking out a pair of black socks and a pair of his lil cowboy boots.

Nodding, he let him help him into the Pull-Up he pulled outta a second box a few moments later before actually getting him dressed.

“I’ll worry about getting the baby furniture down while you’re napping or something,” the drummer sighed. “At least then, I’ll know you’re staying outta trouble since you’ll be asleep.”

Bobby giggled deviously as he let him slip a paci in his mouth once he was dressed, that giggle quickly dying into a frown.

“Bobby–ya all right, dude?” he asked, looking concerned.

Since he couldn’t talk, the pint-size bassist mimed sliding _Scrabble_ tiles around, given that that’d been the ingenious way their former lead guitarist’d come up with for him to Communicate before. Nodding, Rikki moved to find the board game in question since he’d put it up here with all the other baby supplies due to its otherwise lack of use.

Once those lil Wooden tiles’d been located, dumped out, and flipped over so the letters on them were visible, he plunked his rump down on the attic floor. While he was spelling out his response, Rikki turned his attention to getting a couple essential pieces of furniture–namely, the potty chair he’d eventually bought him. He’d proven to be able to get outta his diaper on his own pretty well, and he knew this’d be easier for a post-nap potty break. It certainly beat the hell outta having to come wake him up so he could hold him on the toilet, or having to simply piss himself, that was for sure.

Turning back to his friend once he’d grabbed that piece of furniture and let it tumble down the attic stairs, the drummer saw that he was waiting patiently for him to read his response. He settled in the floor so that he was sitting between his legs, instinctively wrapping an arm around him and pulling him back against his torso so he could read over his head. What he saw as his eyes scanned over the combination of letter tiles took him by surprise, making his brows launch up his forehead.

“You’re sure?” he asked, looking down at his friend.

Bobby nodded before turning to rearrange the tiles into another response.

_“I can’t explain why_ – _maybe it’s one of those things like what Siren taught us last Year. But I feel like Richie’s in some kinda trouble_ – _or gonna be_ – _and somebody needsta check on him,”_ he read moments later. “Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt to, but I hope you’re wrong.”

The pint-sized bassist rearranged the tiles once again, spelling out, _I hope I am, too_.

“Lemme pack a diaper bag of your baby clothes before we head downstairs, then,” Rikki told him. “Even if I only need them for you, it’ll still be better to be prepared, just in care you’re not the only one who woke up like this.”

He almost looked horrified at the mere Thought, ’cuz this was something he wouldn’t Wish on his worst enemy in the next three Millennia.

“I know, I know–but _you_ know that I’ve a point,” the drummer chuckled.

_Yeah, I guess that’s true,_ Bobby spelled out by way of a reluctant agreement.

As he was climbing back down the attic stairs, his friend held against one side and that packed diaper bag hanging from the opposite shoulder, he heard his phone ringing. Hoping he could catch the call, he didn’t even bother with folding up those stairs before he darted into his bedroom to grab the receiver on his nightstand. Thankfully, he just barely caught it before it got picked up by his answering machine, sounding a bit breathless from his rush as he answered.

_“Hey, man_ – _I wanted to ask ya something, but now I feel compelled to ask if you’re all right.”_

Realizing it was the shorter blonde from his band, Rikki chuckled. “Yeah, I’m fine–I was just up in the attic, so I’d to rush a bit to grab the phone. What’s up?”

_“Well, I was curious about whether you’d heard from Richie this Morn,”_ the front man said, his tone turning serious.

“Haven’t been up but about an hour, but no, I haven’t,” he told him. “Why–something wrong?”

_“That’s just it_ – _I dunno since he’s not answering his phone, but Kelcey’s a bad feeling,”_ Bret explained. Kelcey was his girlfriend, the mother of his daughter, and the young Witch who’d originally introduced herself to them as Siren the previous Summer.

“Aw, fuck.” The drummer groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “That can’t possibly be good.”

_“Considering how powerful an Empath she is, you’re damn right,”_ he agreed.

“Add that to the bad feeling that Bobby got while we were upstairs…” Rikki sighed heavily. “Gimme a lil bit, and I’ll go check on him since I live closer.”

_“Just keep me updated, man,”_ the front man told him. _“I’m hoping he’s all right, but I guess we’ll see.”_

“Yeah, we certainly will,” he agreed. “I’ll give ya a call when I get back home.”

Hanging up the phone, the drummer looked down at Bobby, who’d cocked his head curiously as he listened to his side of the phone call. Naturally, hearing him say his name’d caught his attention, and now he wanted to know just what was going on that’d involve him aside from the obvious. As he picked him up to carry him downstairs, he quickly explained the basic gist of Bret’s phone call, not surprised when he gasped around the paci clipped to his shirt so he wouldn’t drop it entirely.

Rikki was glad that they’d a spare car seat in the garage for his pint-size friend’s son, Zach, which was usually set aside unless it was his weekend with the boy. It’d certainly come in handy, if said friend’s suspicion about their new lead guitarist was true, ’cuz he could toss it in his trunk. From there, he could grab the one the bassist always kept in the back seat of his car for him to use on their way there and back.

Once the car seat’d been moved from one car to the other, he gently settled Bobby in it and worked on getting him strapped in. It was a bit of a surpriseta find out that he didn’t really have to loosen the harness used to buckle him in, but that meant one big thing. He’d wound up roughly the same size as before when he’d gotten de-aged this Time, which meant that pretty much anything he’d bought him could still be used. That’d no doubt Change, if he wound up stuck this way long enough that he started growing more, but it was a good thing for the moment. At least he wouldn’t have to spend even more money for a while, if at all, since he’d kept all those previously-bought supplies for _any_ Future use.

After buckling his friend into his son’s car seat, the drummer settled in his driver’s seat so he could fire up his car. Glancing up at him in his rearview mirror as he buckled his own seat belt, he saw the pint-sized bassist just looking around curiously like a lotta kids tended to do. Sure, taking care of a grown man trapped in a toddler’s body was gonna be hard again, but neither of them realized just what they–specifically Rikki–were in for once they arrived at Richie’s apartment. If they’d already thought things were nuttier than a Squirrel turd, they were about to find out just how nutty things _really_ were–and would stay for the foreseeable Future.


	2. Two

Upon arriving at the apartment building Richie’d given him the address for when they’d all traded addresses and keys, just in case they ever needed to check on each other, Rikki couldn’t say he wasn’t at least a lil surprised. Now that he was seeing it with his own two eyes, he realized he’d been here before ’cuz he’d once dated a chick or two who’d lived here at the Time. The place was notorious for being more than decent in a pretty good area, but also a bit on the pricey side, especially for someone as young as their new lead guitarist.

Judging by how his eyes widened as he suckled his paci, Bobby was just as surprised to find out where the new baby of their band lived. He was no doubt wondering how on Earth he could afford even a studio apartment here, let alone anything bigger than that, and just couldn’t ask him. Brushing off his surprise, though, he headed up to the front door of the building, which was quite literally on the corner of Wilshire and Stanley. The place’d Controlled access, but luckily, the security guard on duty remembered him from a few Years ago and was quick to buzz him in.

Nodding his thanksta the man, who was just as quick to compliment him on having such a cute son since last they’d seen each other–much to the pint-sized bassist’s chagrin–he headed for the elevator. Going by the address he’d been given, their youngest band mate lived on the fourth floor, and he wasn’t in the mood to climb four flights of stairs with a toddler on his hip.

Stepping off the elevator, he was surprised to see a woman standing with a cop outside a door near where he thought Richie’s was supposed to be. The drummer pretended not to notice them as he started down the hall in their Direction–till he realized it _was_ his band mate’s door they were standing outside of. Almost as soon as he got within ear shot of it, he heard the ungodly racket that’d no doubt made this woman call the cops in the first place–the Sound of a shrieking baby from inside the guitarist’s apartment. He suddenly got the feeling that the toddler on his hip hadn’t been wrong in his bad feeling about the poor guy any more than Kelcey had when she’d told Bret about it earlier that Morn.

“Excuse me–might I ask what’s going on?” He made sure to keep his distance from the cop, mostly ’cuz Poison didn’t exactly have a good reputation with the cops.

“She called in a screaming baby after the racket didn’t stop for an hour,” he answered. “Just trying to figure out how to get in since no one’s answering, but it’s looking like I’ma have to call for a battering ram.”

Double-checking the apartment number on the door, Rikki pulled out his keys. “Or we can just do it this way instead.”

“Wait, _you’re_ the one that lives here?” the cop asked, looking just as startled.

“No, but my friend and co-worker does,” he answered, keeping his grip on Bobby while he fished up the right key. “He’s never said anything about having kids, though, so I’m at a loss on that one.”

Unlocking the door, he was quick to open it, which allowed all their earsta be assaulted in earnest as the screaming they could now tell sounded a bit hoarse got even louder. The pint-sized bassist whimpered as he clamped his hands over his ears, his face scrunched as he peeped out through one eye. The blonde couldn’t help a wince of his own as he braved walking into the front hall–or what would be such, if there’d been a wall between it and the kitchen–which was actually a decently open Space for an apartment that wasn’t even eight hundred square feet.

Rikki quickly set the toddler he was letting everyone think was his son on the couch with a stern warning not to move. The only interior door besides the one that led to the half-bath next to the kitchen that could be seen from here was the one that led to the bedroom, which was only slightly smaller than the living room. It was from behind that door where the hoarse screaming was coming from, and he almost didn’t wanna enter it.

But he’d recognized the slightly bluesy note to the screaming that Richie normally carried in his singing–not to mention had a cop on his heels–so he knew he’d no choice. Taking a deep breath, he opened the bedroom door, allowing the screaming to get even louder than opening the front door’d allowed already. He quickly stepped into the bedroom, gently rattling the doorknob to get the attention of the room’s occupant without startling them too badly. The drummer really didn’t wanna treat said occupant like a baby, just in case the same thing that’d happened to Bobby’d happened to him, but he knew he had to. He’d gladly let the lil guy smack him for it later, though, once they didn’t have a cop watching their every lil move.

Richie looked up at his band mate with wide, tear-filled blue eyes, surprised but more than relieved to see him as he reached up with a hoarse whine. He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but he _did_ know one thing–waking up as a baby in a soaked bed he hadn’t wanted to risk trying to get outta wasn’t fun. The fact that he was starving since he hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon wasn’t exactly helping his mood, and he was hoping the blonde could help him out with that.

“Aw, c’mere, lil guy,” he said, gently plucking him up from the bed.

“Ya said your friend lived here, right?” the cop asked.

“Yeah, he does, or I wouldn’t have the right key for the front door,” Rikki answered, rubbing the back of the toddler he now held. “Like I said outside, I didn’t know he’d a kid, or I wouldn’t have let him leave the lil guy alone.”

“I should hope not, if you’re a father in your own right,” he told him, jerking a thumb back toward the living room.

Richie couldn’t help his confused look, grateful the cop didn’t catch it ’cuz of how they were turned.

“I’ll explain it in a lil bit, if you’re still the same up top,” the drummer murmured in his ear as he gently tapped his temple.

“Well, do ya know who the mother could be?”

“Honestly, no. We met only a few months ago, which’s prolly why he didn’t say anything about having a son.” Rikki shifted him to hide his nude crotch and rump a lil better. “I can hang around for a couple hoursta see if he shows up, then take this lil guy back home with me, if he doesn’t.”

“Normally, I couldn’t allow such a thing.” The cop looked thoughtful. “But I’m not about to report this to CPS, if he’s someone willing to take over his care for a few Days, ’cuz I don’t feel like doing the paperwork right now.”

The drummer held his breath, sensing a _but_ on the horizon.

“I just hope you’ve someone to help _you,_ since you’ve your own son to worry about,” he chuckled, turning to leave. “Have a good Day, and make sure that boy gets fed.”

Richie shot a flabbergasted look up at the man holding him, who continued holding his breath till they heard the front door close behind the cop and his concerned neighbor. Only once that door was closed did he heave a sigh of relief, even as he turned to head into the bathroom so he could get him cleaned up. He was absolutely floored that the cop wasn’t taking him back to the station with him to turn over to CPS, which woulda been really bad right now.

Setting this second toddler down in the bathroom floor, Rikki gave him the same stern warning not to move from where he was at. He wasn’t sure if his second de-aged band mate understood him or not, or if he just reacted to his tone of voice, as he turned to head back to the living room for a few moments. Upon his Return, he not only held the diaper bag he’d settled next to Bobby, but his other de-aged and curious friend.

Both boys’ jaws dropped when they saw each other, and he almost wanted to take that as the young guitarist still being the same up top as he ever was. Since he still wasn’t sure, he decided to focus on what he _was_ sure about–which was that he needed a bath and to be dressed in something. The drummer got the feeling that he’d try to fight him on bathing him at first like the pint-sized bassist’d once done, but they didn’t really have a choice right now. He wanted to get him back to his own home sooner rather than later, just in case that cop decided to show up again and try taking him, anywhore.

“I know, I know, lil dude,” he sighed, gently plunking him down in the tub after filling it with a couple inches of warm Water. “If you’re the same up top as ya normally are, ya prolly don’t want me touching ya, but we don’t exactly have a choice right now.”

Richie let out a _hmph_ as he crossed his arms, glaring at the other toddler when he giggled.

Said pint-sized bassist tried to give him a reassuring look, but he wasn’t too sure how much Success he’d had when he just gave him a weird look in Return.

“Let’s try this,” Rikki said, pulling something outta his pocket. “If you’re still the same up top, pick out the letters of my name from these.”

The pint-sized guitarist’s brows furrowed as he spread out a handful of random letters on the edge of the tub, making sure the five he’d need to fulfill his request were present.

“All right–now we know you’re still grown up top,” the drummer said once he’d spelled out his name with the _Scrabble_ tiles he’d given him. “Let’s getcha cleaned up, and maybe ya can answer a few more questions this way.”

He couldn’t help a huff as he gave in and let the blonde get him cleaned up.

Once he’d been given a bath and dried off, Rikki pulled out what he’d packed in that diaper bag, but hoped he wouldn’t need. He wasn’t surprised that his second pint-sized band mate squawked indignantly at the Pull-Up he was presented with, but he simply gave him a no-nonsense look. Telling him that he wasn’t about to have him pissing all over him or his car, he said it was this or an actual diaper since he wasn’t letting him run around nude. Besides, he didn’t figure he actually _wanted_ to run around nude in front of him, no matter what his physical state was.

Richie finally sighed and grabbed his forearms for balance as he gave in, a Silent admission that he was right about that. Careful as he lifted each foot, he stepped into the Pull-Up and let him pull it up his legs, frowning as he reached down to tug it away from his crotch again. It felt weird compared to the boxers he normally wore, but he supposed he didn’t have much of a choice at the moment.

After getting him completely dressed, he picked both the pint-sized guitarist _and_ bassist up, quickly carrying them to the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what all the former had at the moment, but he was hoping to find _something_ in his kitchen that he could feed him for the moment. Outta all the shit he’d packed, he’d forgotten to grab something for at least one of the boysta snack on, even though he shoulda known the slightly smaller brunette’d be starving, if he’d woken up as a baby.

“Well, at least I can give ya a snack,” the drummer sighed, pulling a box of cereal outta one of the cabinets.

Richie’s eyes lit up when he saw the box, his stomach letting out a loud growl.

“Or maybe you’ll just have to have it as your breakfast altogether,” he chuckled. “Just without milk so ya don’t make a mess.”

The pint-sized guitarist shrugged–he didn’t normally eat his cereal with milk unless it was in a glass, anywhore.

“Now, can ya tell me what on Earth happened–or do you’ve even the slightest idea?” Rikki asked, pushing the bowl he’d poured him in his Direction.

He looked confused as he grabbed a handful of the Frosted Flakes and stuffed them into his hungry mouth.

“With these, ya goof,” the drummer chuckled, scattering the _Scrabble_ tiles across the island that both boys were currently sitting on.

This caught Richie’s attention, making him look at each hand before apparently deciding to simply use his left hand while he fed himself with his right, even though he was right-handed.

_“Went to bed normal, woke up like this,”_ he read after a few clumsy moments. “So, ya don’t remember anything weird happening before this happened to ya?”

The pint-sized guitarist shook his head.

“Great, another Mystery for the Ages on our hands,” Rikki sighed, even though he smirked as he shook his head.

_Whaddaya mean?_ he spelled out with the _Scrabble_ tiles, a confused look on his face as he chewed.

_That the same thing happened to me, too,_ Bobby spelled out after reaching for the Wooden tiles.

Richie looked at the other toddler in surprised confusion, which made him giggle as he managed to get his right arm outta his jacket sleeve.

_Know who I am now, kid?_ he spelled out after turning to show him the tat on his right bicep.

The pint-sized guitarist’s eyes widened in shock as he instantly recognized the tattoo his bassist’d gotten for his ex-wife after they’d met a few Years ago. _What the hell?_

_Good question, kid,_ the pint-sized bassist spelled out. _Ain’t the first Time this has happened, either_.

Rikki laughed at the incredulous look on their confused band mate’s face, quickly filling him in once he’d managed to Calm down. He told him that was what he’d meant when he said he’d explain it later, careful to keep his volume down so that cop wouldn’t hear what he’d told him. He’d wanted the action to look like he was kissing his temple in a Comforting gesture, just in case he _hadn’t_ been normal up top. On the other hand, he hadn’t wanted to treat him too much like a helpless baby without knowing for sure if he was or not.

Bobby reached out to snag the cereal box that’d been left unattended while he was explaining the current goings-on to him, his stomach deciding that breakfast wasn’t enough. Grumbling as he managed to get the bag open without making a mess, he reached in and stuffed a handful of the sugary flakes in his own mouth. No one’d ever be able to convince him that being a baby wasn’t hungry work, ’cuz he knew damn well it was.

Laughing, the drummer managed to find a couple small, plastic cups that he could pour them some milk in, knowing they’d both need something to wash the cereal down with. Richie looked grateful and relieved as he handed one of the cupsta him, his mouth almost too dry to manage another bite now. He was careful to keep a two-handed grip on the cup, unsure if they’d anymore clothes that’d fit him with them, should he accidentally make a mess of himself. Even still, he didn’t particularly wanna do that, if only ’cuz he’d spent enough Time wet that Morn and didn’t feel like going back there. He preferred staying dry since he didn’t particularly relish having raw or chafed skin, especially in the places that’d been wet for so long already.

Once the boys were both done eating, Rikki cleaned up the mess he’d been forced to make, even taking the Time to wash those few dishes. Left with few other choices, he packed both boys up so they could head out, only pausing long enough to grab the pint-sized guitarist’s address book. He figured that someone was gonna have to get in touch with his parents as much as Bobby’s mother since they obviously wouldn’t be able to, themselves. With those things in hand and Thoughts in mind, he told the boysta just grab the bandanas tied to his belt loops and took them downstairs so they could leave.


	3. Three

Given that he was pretty sure there was only one person on the Planet that could help them right now, Rikki aimed his car straight for Sherman Oaks once he’d gotten the other car seat outta the trunk and both boys strapped in. It’d been weird enough when the pint-sized bassist’d woken up like this the previous Summer–and right in the middle of a tour, to boot. Now, it was even weirder considering that it’d happened to him again, but also happened to their newest band member simultaneously. He wasn’t quite sure _what_ to make of that, but he was almost certain the Witch he knew as Siren _would_ –or at least be able to help them get closer to figuring out this Mystery.

Bobby recognized the home they pulled up in front of before the car’d even come to a complete stop, having been here plenty of Times before. His first visit’d been after he and his son’d recovered from a cold when they’d come to pay a visit to the eccentric young woman who was now the shorter blonde’s girlfriend. That pretty much told him that the taller blonde didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on now and fully Intended to seek her help on the matter.

Quickly getting the boys unbuckled and outta their car seats once he’d parked, the drummer grabbed the diaper bag for the extra Pull-Ups he’d packed. The pint-sized bassist snagged one of the bandanas hanging from his belt loop again, but he was forced to pick Richie up and carry him. Their friend’s infant boots were simply too big for him, which’d resulted in him tripping and nearly falling on his face too many Times as they left his apartment. Not wanting him to burn his feet on hot pavement or concrete, he couldn’t let him walk while they were outside till he managed to get him some slightly smaller shoes or boots.

“Unca Rikki!” The door was opened by lil Marina, the daughter Bret hadn’t known about till the previous Summer.

“Hey there, munchkin!” he chuckled. “Where’s chu mama and daddy?”

“Mama’s nappin,” Marina giggled. “She says da babeh makes her seepy a lot.”

“Marina, who on–never mind.”

Looking up, he saw his blonde band mate coming outta the kitchen. “Guess we’re waiting a bit for Siren to get up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t fill ya in.”

“What on– Oh, God–not again,” Bret groaned, taking a moment to recognize Bobby in his current state.

“Unfortunately, and it gets worse,” he answered with a sigh.

“Wait a minute– _Richie?”_ the front man asked, looking flabbergasted as he took a better look at the toddler riding his hip.

Grumbling, Richie nodded as he sucked on the paci he’d been given.

“Well, get on in here and start explaining,” he told them. “’Cuz we’re definitely gonna need Kelcey for this once she’s awake enough to comprehend anything.”

Nodding, the drummer followed his friend into the house he’d since moved into, chuckling as Bobby took off behind the lil girl they considered a niece with a giggle. Even if the pint-sized guitarist wasn’t in the mood to at the moment, it was pretty clear that the older toddler wanted to play, which was fine by him. He’d stay outta trouble, if he was given something to amuse himself with, even if that was a dollhouse he normally wouldn’t have gone near.

Bret headed for the kitchen to start pouring drinks while the taller blonde settled on the couch in the adjoining den, thankful they’d sippie cups in the house. While he might prefer they use baby bottles at the moment, at least a sippie cup’d keep the pair of toddlers from making a mess for him to clean up later. And he preferred getting an explanation versus having to clean up a mess, especially before his hormonal girlfriend woke up.

Once they were settled on the couch, Richie in the drummer’s lap for now, he started with wanting to know what the hell was going on, if he could even Begin to tell him. Rikki sighed as he told him that all he knew was that he’d woken up to the pint-sized bassist beating him across the face with his pillow and assumed he’d tried to be nicer about waking him up. When that hadn’t worked, he’d resorted to desperate measures since he’d no other choices, if he didn’t wanna piss himself without a Pull-Up or something. It was only then that he’d come to the realization that they were having a repeat of last Summer, although he was at a loss as to why that was happening now.

The pint-sized guitarist’s eyes widened as he listened, his mouth working at that sippie cup as he took a sip of whatever he’d been given. He didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t particularly care since he’d been thirsty, not to mention confused and curious. Since they hadn’t known each other very long, the rest of his band hadn’t given him the full story on why they’d needed to replace their lead guitarist. All they’d told him was that he’d a massive drug problem, and they’d all gotten sick of it and how it made him behave more often than it didn’t in both a personal _and_ professional manner.

“I think Richie’s curious about what we mean,” Rikki chuckled, ruffling what lil bit of hair covered the top of his head.

He shot him a dirty look as he swatted his hand away, then looked back to the shorter blonde.

“The long and short of it–Bobby woke up how he is right now in the middle of our tour last Summer,” Bret explained. “Obviously, we couldn’t tour like that, so we’d to cancel the rest of it since we didn’t know how long it’d be till we got him back to normal.”

“CC offered to take one for the team by checking himself into rehab, but that stint didn’t do him much, if any good,” the drummer continued. “It all came to a head last September at the _VMAs,_ and we spent the next two months after that looking for what turned out to be you.”

The pint-sized guitarist nodded, managing a gesture for them to continue.

“Turns out that Bobby waking up like that was basically to force _all_ of us into learning how to Communicate better,” the shorter blonde said. “Both as a band, and in other relationships _outside_ the band.”

“Ya got that right, hon. Now, why’re we going over last Summer’s goings-on?”

Looking up, they saw Kelcey–aka Siren–rubbing her bloated-looking belly as she entered the room with a sleepy look on her face.

“Give yourself a few to wake up, and we’ll bring ya up to speed,” Rikki told her. “’Cuz I don’t think you’re gonna make much sense of it at first, even fully awake.”

A Dark eyebrow arched over an Emerald eye, which quickly closed alongside its twin as she yawned and headed for the kitchen.

“This is just fuckin’ weird, though,” the front man sighed, running his fingers through his hair in an agitated move.

“Daddy, _nuuuu_ use bad words!” Marina scolded him as she turned away from her dollhouse, Bobby giggling behind his hand.

“Daddy’s sorry,” he said, his eyes widening as he realized his slip-up.

“Chu knows what happens when chu uses bad words,” the lil girl told him, a glint in her eyes that could only be called sadistic as her mother laughed in the kitchen.

_“Ugggghhhh,”_ Bret groaned, dragging his hand down his face now. “Just get it over with.”

Laughing even harder, the young Witch soon came over to the couch with a drink of her own, a bottle of vinegar, and a straw. Rikki burst into laughter as he figured out what his friend’s punishment for cussing in front of his daughter was supposed to be. Even the pint-sized bassist cracked up, peals of laughter ringing out from him as he rolled around on the floor in front of the dollhouse.

Almost gagging as he forced the strawful of vinegar down, the shorter blonde coughed before sticking out his tongue in a clear _Yuck!_ expression. He was quick to snag his girlfriend’s glassta steal a sip from it, Kelcey laughing again as she went to put the vinegar back where it belonged. She’d warned him right from Day one that while she preferred their daughter learn such filth from them, she wanted her to be older before it happened. If he was gonna cuss in front of her at her current age, he was gonna pay the price–and that price came in the form of a mouthful of vinegar.

Once they’d Calmed down enough to talk, the young Witch settled in her boyfriend’s lap and took her glass back as she turned a curious look on Rikki. She was no doubt still asleep enough that she hadn’t tried reading any Energy yet, or she’d have figured out who was sitting in his lap. After all, she was a talented and very powerful Witch and Energy worker–she’d figured out shit about them all that they either didn’t know themselves, or simply hadn’t wanted othersta know.

“All right, so what on Earth’s going on?” she asked. “And didja ever get in touch with Richie?”

“Well, that’s the part you’re not gonna believe–and that we need _your_ help on,” the drummer told her.

Taking a closer look at the toddler in his lap, Kelcey reached out in a gesture for him to hold out his own hand.

“Go ahead, lil dude,” he encouraged him. “She’s not gonna hurtcha.”

Richie still looked a lil wary before turning his gaze back to the young woman and laying his lil hand on her fingers.

_“Sacro Juno, Regina degli Dei,”_ she breathed, her eyes widening as she almost instantly recognized his Energy.

“I don’t think any of us speak Swahili, babe,” Bret laughed.

“That was Italian, not Swahili–and I said, _Holy Juno, Queen of the Gods,”_ the young Witch translated. “Richie, what on Earth happened to ya?”

The pint-sized guitarist shrugged before raising his sippie cup for another sip of whatever was in it.

“That’s the weird part,” Rikki told her. “He and Bobby _both_ woke up like this for no apparent reason.”

Turning her attention to the dollhouse, Kelcey realized that it _was,_ indeed the band’s bassist sitting there next to her daughter. Giggling, Bobby raised his hand in a wave before grabbing his own sippie cup, apparently content to just keep quiet and let her quite literally work her magick. None of them’d the first clue as to why this’d happen–and to more than one band member this Time–but maybe she could start getting a handle on it.

“Well, this’d certainly explain why he wasn’t answering his phone this Morn,” she finally said. “Kinda hard to, if ya can’t even get outta bed without cracking your head–and that’s if ya could even reach it afterward.”

Richie nodded, leaning over as he reached for the coffee table.

“Why don’t we try those _Scrabble_ tiles again instead of playing _Charades?”_ the drummer chuckled. “That seemsta work better when the two of ya wanna say something.”

Nodding, he slid down outta his lap and took a couple steps closer to the coffee table, then looked up at him expectantly.

“All right, there ya go,” Rikki said after dumping out and flipping the Wooden tiles.

_My phone’s on the other side of my nightstand_ – _I’d bust my head on said nightstand, if I tried grabbing it from the bed like this,_ the pint-sized guitarist spelled out.

“Then I’m guessing ya didn’t even try to get up at all before Rikki and Bobby showed up,” the young Witch said.

Richie shook his head as he started rearranging the tiles again. _It wasn’t fun sitting in a piss-soaked bed, and my throat hurts like hell now_.

“Lemme guess–screamed yourself hoarse, hoping somebody’d come and help ya?” she chuckled.

He responded with a simple nod and reached up to rub his throat.

Laughing as she pushed herself up outta the front man’s lap, Kelcey snagged his sippie cup from him and headed to the kitchen with it. She said that she’d a quick remedy for that that wouldn’t hurt him, although it might make him a bit hyper for a short while. It just depended on how he reacted to being given sugar of just about any kind, ’cuz not all kids’d go ballistic when they were given something sweet.

In the meantime, Rikki suggested taking him and their pint-sized bassist upstairs for a quick potty break and Pull-Up change, if they really needed the latter. After all, it’d been a while since Bobby’d a chanceta go to the bathroom, which meant that he’d prolly pissed himself by now. If that was true for him, he didn’t see why it couldn’t possibly be true for the slightly smaller toddler, especially since there was no telling when he’d last pissed his bed before they’d found him. Such a thing was mortifying to think about and brought a pink tinge to both boys’ faces, but they let him haul them and the diaper bag upstairs.

After they’d Returned and Richie’d gotten his sippie cup back, they settled on the couch again, said toddler back in the drummer’s lap. His eyes widened as he took a sip of whatever he’d been given this Time, almost instantly tasting the honey it’d been laced with. It was a trick his own mother’d used when he really was a kid and sick, usually with a cold that made him cough till he’d laryngitis. Even if he hadn’t recognized the remedy for what it was, he still prolly woulda tried anything she suggested to Soothe his aching throat.

“Well, now that we’ve his throat taken care of,” the young Witch said as she settled back in Bret’s lap. “Time to get down to the knitty-gritty.”

“It’d certainly be helpful,” Rikki said, an arm wrapped around the pint-sized guitarist as he snuggled him outta the same habit that’d made him snuggle Bobby.

“Judging by why _Bobby_ woke up as a toddler last Summer, I’ma take a wild guess and say this has something to do with Communication–or even a lack thereof–again,” she told them.

Said pint-sized guitarist reached for the coffee table again, making his band mate let him slide down. _Whaddaya mean by that?_ he spelled out with the _Scrabble_ tiles moments later.

“I mean that Bobby’d some stuff he needed to talk to the guys–and even his ex-wife–about,” Kelcey elaborated. “Stuff that wasn’t easy for him to talk about by any means, so he just never had till he was more or less forced into it.”

Richie’s eyes widened, his expression turning nervous when she said that.

“Now, with both of y’all having this happen, it could be on either End, or even both,” the young Witch continued. “There could be things that both of y’all need to talk about–with each other, the rest of the band, or both–and the Universe’s trying to give y’all a hint y’all can’t ignore.”

Now he looked even more nervous as he bit his lower lip, the other toddler joining him by the table.

_Ya mean like the fact that I think Richie’s pretty attractive?_ Bobby spelled out, looking up at her with a cocked brow as she read.

“That could definitely be one matter,” Kelcey told him, nodding. “If you’ve been hiding your attraction, regardless of the reason why, it could certainly play into this, if it’s Communication-based again.”

_Never really considered myself gay, and I’m so fresh outta my divorce that I haven’t wanted to try dating again yet,_ he spelled out, then shrugged.

“And that’s perfectly fine, but I don’t think the Universe’d turn _both_ of y’all into toddlers just for that,” she told them. “That makes me believe there’s more going on than anyone’s admitting to just yet.”

At this point, poor Richie’d crawled back into the drummer’s lap, the expression on his face clearly saying that he’d clammed up on them for the Time being. There was no way they were gonna get anything outta him for right now, and trying to push him’d just make him clam up even worse. Left with no other real choices, they were more or less forced to just let him open up to them whenever he felt that he was ready.

The other couple offered to help Rikki out in any way they could, both knowing taking care of two toddlers was gonna be pretty taxing for him. He’d broken up with Deana in the last few months, so he didn’t even have her to help keep an eye on the boys for him to take care of his own needs. While he greatly appreciated their offer, he said he’d find a way to manage without relying on them any more than necessary. After all, they’d their own daughter to worry about, not to mention that Kelcey was pregnant again on top of it and needed as much rest as she could get.

Deciding that it’d be better to just wait out his Silent streak, the taller blonde said it’d be better to get back home with both of them and prolly put them down for a nap. Since there was no telling how long they’d be stuck like this, he needed to get that baby furniture he’d bought outta his attic for them, and maybe buy doubles of a few things. Bret rose from the couch once his girlfriend got up, telling him to give him a list of what he needed so he could go get it for him.

While he didn’t really want the help, Rikki knew it’d be a better idea to just go ahead and take it, so he told him a short list for him to write down. He still needed to call Bobby’s mom, Lynda, not to mention Richie’s parents once they got back to his house the Hills. The longer he took to do that ’cuz he was busy running errands, the worse it’d be, if they’d already tried calling their sons and hadn’t gotten in touch with them. All of them wanted to cut down on Lynda’s and the Kotzens’ potential worry, but they’d rather be able to explain what was going on before it got to that point, if they could. To that End, the drummer headed for home with the grown men trapped in toddlers’ bodies, the front man taking off to run that errand for them in the meantime.


	4. Four

Richie woke from his desperately-needed nap a couple hours later, feeling almost like he was wrapped up in a cocoon as he did. He was content to just lay there and go back to sleep since he was warm and comfy, not to mention his Pull-Up didn’t feel wet against his crotch to him. Well, till it felt like his cozy lil cocoon moved against him, making his eyes fly open as he let out a startled gasp around the paci still in his mouth, that is.

Pushing himself up just enough to look around, he realized that Bobby’d rolled over and grabbed him like a teddy bear in his sleep. He just barely remembered the taller blonde putting them both in his bed when he’d gotten them back to his house, saying that it was really the only place they could nap safely. But he seemed to recall them being put on opposite sides of the bed when he’d first brought them up there, so he wasn’t sure who’d scooted across the bed in their sleep. What he _was_ sure of was that the other brunette was almost like a barnacle, not wanting to let go for shit when he gently pushed at him.

Waking with an irritable whine since he’d been sleeping good, the pint-sized bassist looked up with a sleepy glare at whoever’d been pushing at his face. It took him a few moments of sleepy blinking before he realized it was the pint-sized guitarist, who looked more than a lil freaked-out. Letting go of him almost as soon as he registered his expression, he held up a hand in what he hoped was a good enough _Sorry, man_. He couldn’t help that he was a cuddler, and that he always wound up cuddling who- or whatever was closest once asleep.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Richie scooted a couple more inches away from him, now unable to go back to sleep. It almost seemed like the other toddler was closeta dozing off again as he looked around the room, now wondering how he was supposed to get down from the bed. He’d suddenly registered that he’d to go, but he didn’t wanna use his Pull-Up, if he didn’t have to–that was just gross, and besides, he didn’t think it’d be able to hold it all this Time. The problem with that was that he couldn’t ask Bobby, even if he’d been fully awake, and the drummer was nowhere to be found. Most likely, he was up in the attic getting that baby furniture, or in one of the other bedrooms in the houseta set it up for their use.

_“Eh?”_

Looking back to his left, he saw the pint-sized bassist’d pushed himself upright and realized that he’d apparently whimpered aloud.

_“Eh?”_ Bobby gave him a look that was meant to say, _What’s wrong, kid?_

Letting out a whimper he was actually aware of this Time, the pint-sized guitarist reached down and grabbed his crotch, hopefully conveying his need to go.

_“Ahhhh.”_ Nodding, the other toddler kicked the covers off himself, then turned toward the foot of the bed with a gesture that clearly said, _C’mon!_

Since he was left with few other choices right now, Richie Returned the nod and moved to crawl toward the End of the bed behind him. He was surprised to see a Cedar chest at its foot that was just high enough to bridge the gap between the bed and the floor so they could climb down without hurting themselves. Apparently, the pint-sized bassist’d known it was there, ’cuz he damn well didn’t remember seeing it when Rikki’d brought them upstairs. Then again, he’d been mostly asleep after a boring car ride to his temporary new home, so he hadn’t been paying much attention.

Bobby took his hand once they’d both climbed down and pulled him toward the master bathroom, knowing that one of the first things the drummer woulda set up was at least a single potty chair. He was pleasantly surprised to see two, one settled on the opposite side of the toilet from where the trash can sat, the other next to the bathroom counter. At least having two already set up meant neither of them’d to wait on the other to finish up so they could take their turn. Sighing in relief at that Thought, he gestured to the potty chair next to the counter, not really picky over which one he used as he started worming his jeans and Pull-Up off. He was more concerned with not having to use said Pull-Up unless absolutely necessary than having an audience.

Mortified at the Thought of having to go in front of his band mate, the pint-sized guitarist hesitated for a moment. That didn’t last long, though, as his belly cramped just painfully enough to spur him into motion, and he was quick to shove his own jeans and Pull-Up down. It wasn’t just that he’d to piss at the moment, although he hadn’t wanted to tell the other toddler that, but now he kinda didn’t have a choice.

Twin grunts rang out from the master bath as they both took care of business, letting Rikki know where they were. He’d come up to check on them and was a bit startled to see that they were no longer in his bed till he heard those noises, which made him smile. But instead of barging in on them since they were no doubt embarrassed enough, he merely waited by the door that led to the balcony overlooking the back yard. From here, he could see through the crack left in the bathroom door and know when they were in need of help, but not enough to really take away their privacy.

_“Eh.”_ The pint-sized bassist was the first to rise from his potty chair, frowning at how disgusting he felt now from needing to be cleaned up.

_“Ugh,”_ his Melodic counterpart huffed.

“Y’all done in there?” Rikki chuckled, trying not to startle them.

Both let out a short shriek, which was followed by one of them shuffling over to the bathroom door. “Uh, huh,” Bobby said, cracking the door open just enough to peek around it as he nodded.

“Then let’s getcha cleaned up,” he told him, gently pushing the door open. “’Cuz judging by the smell, y’all both need it.”

The boys both flushed Beet-red, which made him laugh as he started with the older toddler.

“I know it’s embarrassing,” the drummer told them, pulling out a box of baby wipesta tackle the pint-sized bassist’s rump with. “But hey, I’m proud of both of y’all–ya managed to make it to your potty chairs instead of shitting my bed.”

Richie supposed that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, even if he _was_ mortified at needing his band mate to clean him up when he was used to being able to do such shit on his own.

“Even if needing help’s mortifying for all of us, at leastcha can take Pride in a few things,” Rikki told them, pulling the pint-sized bassist’s jeans and Pull-Up back up since he didn’t need a fresh one yet.

Bobby giggled as he clapped, trying to convey that he agreed with him on that note.

Once both boys were cleaned up, the drummer took a few momentsta clean out their potty chairs before he took them downstairs. They’d both apparently had to go pretty badly, prolly ’cuz they’d been full of whatever they’d last eaten before being de-aged. He wasn’t surprised by that, and therefore the amounts they’d left behind–their toddler bodies couldn’t hold as much as their adult bodies, and he knew it.

Rikki was soon able to take them downstairs, both boys starting to clamor for food since they hadn’t exactly had much all Morn. The pint-sized bassist was a bit more vocal about his request, ’cuz while he mighta been the quietest of the band before their Change in lead guitarist, he didn’t keep quiet when he was hungry. If he _did,_ he usually got what they referred to as _hangry,_ ’cuz his hunger’d quickly cause him to get pissed to the point that every lil thing pissed him off till he got fed. All but the pint-sized guitarist’d long since gotten used to that, so they all knew the signs and when to take a break for him to at least grab a snack.

Said toddlers were content with hanging out in the living room once he promised they’d have food soon, Bobby managing to turn on the TV. He didn’t really care if it was on the local news or cartoons, as long as he’d something to watch and entertain himself with till food was ready. They weren’t too happy when he was slowed down a bit by the phone suddenly ringing, but they were quick to get over it. In fact, they hauled themselves up to peek over the back of the couch when they heard him say Bret’s name seconds after answering.

“So, ya got in touch with his parents?” the drummer was asking as he worked on a simple lunch. “Awesome, man–he’ll love hearing that!”

Richie looked at the other toddler next to him, hoping that meant what he thought it did.

“Yeah, I’ma try getting in touch with Lynda again once I get food in front of them,” he said. “They both started clamoring almost as soon as I got them cleaned up from their post-nap potty break, so I figured that needed to be done first.”

The pint-sized bassist muffled a giggle with his hand, but apparently he still heard him.

“Yeah, the lil punks’re staring at me right now,” Rikki chuckled after glancing back over his shoulder. “They’re either listening to me, about to pitch a bitch-fit for food, or both.”

Both their lil faces flushed slightly at realizing he was aware they were listening.

“All right–I’ll let him know, man,” the drummer said, screwing lids back on jars. “And thanks again for grabbing those extra supplies for me.”

He Ended the call within a minute by laying the receiver back in its cradle, then picked up the lil plates he’d put his band mates’ sammiches on. Bobby was happy to see that he’d remembered what his preferred lunchtime sammich was, which made him squeal and clap as he plopped back down on the couch. The blonde laughed as he set the lil plates down on the coffee table, said toddler shooting the other a look as he scooted down off the cushion he’d just plopped onto.

The pint-sized bassist gestured for him to c’mon, knowing that Rikki’s rule with anything even remotely messy was that he either stand at the coffee table, or get put in a high chair. When Richie cocked his head at him with a funny look, the drummer explained what he was trying to tell him since the _Scrabble_ tiles weren’t scattered for him to use at the moment.

Nodding, the pint-sized guitarist slid down off the couch to join him while their friend headed back to the kitchen. He didn’t particularly wanna get in trouble for doing something he shouldn’t have, but he didn’t wanna get stuck in what he referred to as a _trap-chair,_ either. According to his mother, he’d been a generally content and happy baby–till he was stuck in a car seat, or something else that restricted his ability to move. He’d scream and cry till he was either let out, or his mother’d threatened to duct tape his mouth shut, especially if he wasn’t given food to placate him in the meantime.

“All right–so, here’s the game plan for the foreseeable Future,” Rikki said, Returning with his own lunch and drinks for both toddlers.

They looked up at him expectantly, each one chewing on a bite of their sammiches that they’d just stuffed in their mouths.

“Since Bobby already lives with me ’cuz of his divorce, not much Change in living arrangements for him,” he said, settling on the couch. “But for Richie, the Changes’re gonna be pretty big.”

The pint-sized guitarist nodded as he grabbed the sippie cup that’d been put next to him.

“Obviously, ya can’t live alone like this, no matter how much ya do or don’t wanna,” the drummer said. “Since I’m the one who pretended to be Bobby’s dad before, I figure I can do that again for him and claim you’re my nephew–or that I adopted another son so he’d have a brother to play with.”

Even the pint-sized bassist looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding as he reached for his own sippie cup.

“Bret got in touch with Richie’s parents while y’all were napping,” Rikki continued. “Whether they came out here or not, we wanted them to know what was going on so they wouldn’t worry, in case they couldn’t get in touch with him anytime soon.”

Richie heaved a sigh of relief and shot him a thankful look since he’d been wondering how they were gonna handle that.

“I’ma work on getting in touch with Bobby’s mom once I get done eating, considering how much Bret’s already done to help all of us out today,” he told them. “I don’t wanna completely take him away from his own family, after all, but even I know taking care of both of y’all’s gonna be hard for me.”

Before the drummer could really get a chanceta go over much of anything else, they were all a bit startled by a sudden knock at the front door. Wondering who on Earth it coulda been–and how he could hide the boys, if need be–he roseta go answer it, hoping it was only Bret or someone else in their small social Circle. As long as it was someone who seriously needed to be kept in the loop, he wouldn’t try to deflect any attention from the three of them.

Opening the front door, Rikki was surprised to see the pint-sized bassist’s ex-wife, Mishy, who was holding their son on her hip. Lil Zach looked like he hadn’t long woken up from a nap of his own, judging by the sleepy look on his face as he snuggled against her breast. After a few moments of wracking his brain, he remembered that it was supposed to be his friend’s weekend with his son, and she was here for the drop-off.

“Ya look surprised to see us, Rik,” the young woman giggled, readjusting the toddler on her hip slightly.

“I totally forgotcha were supposed to drop him off today,” he admitted sheepishly, opening the door wider for her. “Which, unfortunately, isn’t much of an option right now.”

“Whaddaya mean?” she asked, frowning as she stepped into the foyer.

_“Uhhhh…”_ The drummer scratched his head, trying to figure out how to put it to her gently.

_“’Ishy_ – _’ach!”_

Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw a grinning Bobby come darting outta the living room to tackle her legs.

“What the–oh, my God,” Mishy said, gaping as she looked down at the boy clinging to her lower limbs. “Am I losing it, or is this really Bobby?”

“It’s really him,” Rikki sighed, gently picking him up.

Zach looked wary since he didn’t really remember the last Time this’d happened, which made the pint-sized bassist giggle and push up his shirt sleeve.

“I can’t believe it’s happened again,” his ex-wife breathed, recognizing the tattoo on his arm as much as their son did.

_“Da-da?”_ said boy asked, looking shocked.

_“’ach!”_ he answered, grinning as he nodded.

“Well, now I’m curious…” The young woman bent down to set her son in the floor, smiling as he tackled his miniature daddy with a gleeful hug. “Ya did pretty well with the two of them the few Times I’d to run errands before, so why can’tcha now?”

Rikki turned his attention back to the living room doorway when he heard a whimper, chuckling as what lil of a face’d been peeping out disappeared just as quick.

“What on Earth…?” Mishy looked as shocked as she did confused.

“Hang tight a sec, ’cuz this lil booger’s a bit more shy,” he chuckled, heading into the living room.

It took him only a few momentsta find Richie hiding between the wall and the couch, laughing as he scooped him up to snuggle against his chest. The pint-sized guitarist whined indignantly as he headed back to the foyer with him, his face now buried against the blonde’s throat. He was definitely a bit on the shy side sometimes, but it was even worse than normal, now that he was trapped in the body of a toddler.

The drummer gently rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head, looking every bit the loving father that he really wasn’t as he tried to Soothe him. He knew this was hard on all three of them–and even any of their friends–right now, but none more so than his de-aged band mates. After all, they couldn’t even talk aside from a few words, and most of those were mispronounced, as Bobby’d proven when trying to say his ex-wife’s and son’s names. Nothing could be very easy for them when they were mostly non-verbal and forced to wear Pull-Ups, if they wanted to prevent any accidents.

“Aw, what a lil cutie,” Mishy giggled when he Returned.

“This is actually our new guitarist, Richie,” he told her, managing to get him to look up at her for at least a few moments before he buried his face again.

“Wait, what?” the young woman asked, her jaw dropping.

“Yeah, I woke up to Bobby beating me with a pillow ’cuz he’d to go, but his potty chair was upstairs in the attic since I didn’t think I’d need it again till I’d kids of my own,” Rikki chuckled. “Then Bret called, wanting to know if we’d heard from Richie since he couldn’t get in touch with him.”

“Oh, my Gods,” she breathed, tentatively reaching out to let the lil guy grab her finger.

“Hell, I just barely saved him from getting hauled off to CPS by going to check on him when I did,” the drummer sighed. “That cop was in a good, but lazy mood, ’cuz he told me that he wasn’t in the mood to do any paperwork, if what he thought was Richie’s son’d someone willing to take care of him due to Richie seemingly abandoning him.”

“So, now you’ve already got two toddlers under your care,” Mishy said, starting to get it. “Okay, I can see why just leaving Zach, too, would be a bad idea.”

“Yeah, it’s not that Bobby and I don’t want him here.” He chuckled as he looked down at the pair of toddlers, who hugged each other almost possessively. “I’ll just barely be able to handle two on my own, as it is–ya really think I need to add a third to the proverbial blender without someone to help me?”

“Definitely not.” The young woman shook her head and pushed her bright red hair outta her face. “I mean, I can hang around to help ya so Bobby still gets his weekend with Zach, but I’m not sure about staying longer than that.”

“We’ll see what happens by the End of the weekend,” Rikki told her. “For now, we were in the middle of lunch since these two got to clamoring for food almost as soon as they woke up from their naps, and I still need to get in touch with Lynda since Bret’s already covered Richie’s parents for me.”

Nodding her agreement, she shooed him off to go actually enjoy his lunch, saying that she’d take care of getting in touch with Lynda for him. He no doubt wasn’t gonna get much Peace and quiet in the foreseeable Future, what with two toddlers running around at any given Time. Neither of them’d really get any, if all three boys were together for the pint-sized bassist to get his weekends with his son like he was supposed to, rather than getting robbed of his precious lil Time with him.

Sighing as he settled back on the couch, the drummer chuckled as Zach begged his daddy for a bite of his unfinished sammich. The lil guy always wanted to try whatever someone else had, so his behavior right now wasn’t much of a surprise. In fact, it made Bobby giggle as he gave him one of the lil bites the sammich’d been cut into, then offered him his sippie cup to wash it down.

Richie looked a bit perturbed when the boy did the same thing to him moments later, given that they’d different sammiches. He gave him a bit of a dirty look, gently smacking at his hand when he reached out to grab a bite ’cuz he failed to offer him one, which made him whimper and look like he was gonna cry. The boy’s daddy gave him a dirty look of his own, the blonde reaching down to gently grab his shoulder as he told him to just let him have the lone bite, and he’d leave him alone. Zach was just at that age where he wanted to try everything, and since he was sure his mother’d fed him before bringing him over, he doubted he was hungry enough to want more than that.

Huffing as he rolled his eyes, the pint-sized guitarist turned his attention back to the third toddler, somewhat reluctant as he handed him a bite of his sammich. The lil boy instantly perked up and squealed, babbling what even Rikki thought was supposed to be something akin to _Thank you!_ as he took the offered bite. After another sip from his daddy’s cup to wash it down, that was when he turned his sights on the blonde and looked at his plate curiously. He apparently decided he wanted to try a bite of his lunch, too, opening his mouth as he begged for a bite the only way he could.

“Well, hang on a sec,” he chuckled. “I didn’t cut mine up since I wasn’t expecting to have to share.”

Zach pouted adorably, making his pint-sized daddy giggle.

“Are we getting the big puppy eyes in here?”

Looking up from ripping off a bite of his barbecue sammich, Rikki chuckled again upon seeing the boy’s mother joining them. “Apparently, his lunch wasn’t quite enough–or it just smells too good to resist,” he told her.

“Boy, chu’s a bottomless pit,” she laughed as he eagerly took the bite he was given once he’d made sure there weren’t any pieces of meat that he’d choke on in it. “Just likey chu daddy.”

Bobby let out an indignant squeal, crossing his arms as he glared at her.

“Ya know ya could pack away an Elephant and a Horse all at once, if your body’d letcha without exploding,” the young woman laughed. “So, don’t even try that with me.”

He huffed and reached for his sippie cup, which he glared at when he got nothing from it.

“What’d he have in it? I’ll grab him a refill while you’re finishing up,” Mishy said, looking at the blonde.

“Just milk since I’ve to do some shopping, if we don’t want him hopped up on caffeine,” the drummer answered after swallowing. “Grab Richie a refill, too, while you’re at it, if ya don’t mind.”

“I’ll even grab Zach his own sippie cup so he’ll quit stealing his daddy’s,” she laughed, taking off with the pair of sippie cups.

The pint-sized guitarist giggled as his rhythmic counterpart let out a squeal and danced stupidly, but happily across the living room. Apparently, while he didn’t mind sharing with his son, he preferred not to when it was unnecessary–which it certainly was, if they’d a third sippie cup around. Course, his stupid lil happy-dance set his son off, too, Zach giggling madly as he joined him a couple feet from the coffee table.

Upon her Return with the trio of sippie cups for the boys, the young woman said that she’d managed to get in touch with her ex-mother-in-law. Naturally, Lynda was shocked to find out that her younger son’d been de-aged again, but she was even more shocked to find out that he wasn’t the only one this Time around. She hadn’t given any names, if only for Respect of Richie’s privacy, but she’d told her that it was another of his band mates. Other than saying it _wasn’t_ the drummer who’d gotten de-aged with him this Time since he was playing caretaker, she’d kept names outta it since they hadn’t talked about giving away that kinda info.

Nodding as he killed off his lunch, Rikki thanked her for keeping that in mind, ’cuz even _he_ wasn’t sure how the pint-sized guitarist’d feel about anyone beyond his band mates and parents knowing. He was certainly glad to hear that–as long as she got to talk to him at some point–Lynda didn’t particularly feel the need to fly out this Time around. She’d seen how good a job he’d done with her baby boy before, so she trusted him to do just as good a job this Time, even if he _was_ spread a bit thinner.

However, he told her that they’d prolly wind up with guests in the next Day or so, which he wasn’t surprised by in the slightest. Unlike the pint-sized bassist’s mother, Richie’s parents’d insisted on flying out from Philly to assure themselves of their son’s safety and well-being once Bret’d gotten in touch with them. Neither who were still physically adults could blame them, considering how Mishy’d led the charge with her ex-husband’s family the previous Summer. In fact, they’d have been more surprised, if they _hadn’t_ wanted to fly out without having this happen once before like Lynda had. But since it’d be easily a few hours before their flight even landed, they weren’t really expecting them to show up till at least the wee hours of the Morn, at the earliest.


	5. Five

Early the next Morn, Rikki was up far earlier than was his norm, whether he was on the road or supposed to be going into the studio. After putting all three toddlersta bed in Bobby’s room, he’d let Mishy sleep in the master suite with him, rather than relegating her to one of the guest rooms. Given that they’d a few romps while the bassist was physically a toddler the previous Summer, he hadn’t been surprised that she’d kept him up half the Night. She’d no doubt been pretty needy after realizing that her marriage wasn’t gonna work out, especially if she hadn’t dove back into the dating pool just yet.

Therefore, he was already up when someone knocked on the door, which was a good thing, whether it was Bret or someone else. As it turned out when he opened said door, it was Richie’s parents waiting on the other side, so they definitely wouldn’t have had a key to let themselves in. He supposed that the shorter blonde’d given them his address when he’d talked to them as he waved them in, then covered his mouth as he yawned.

“Rikki, right?” the man asked as he closed the door behind them.

“Pretty sure that even though we share the same given name, it’s your son that goes by _Richie,”_ he chuckled sleepily as he nodded.

“Rich, Sr.” He held out his hand for him to shake. “This is my wife, Georgine.”

“Pleasure to meetcha,” Rikki told him, accepting both their handshakes, starting with the older man’s.

“Is Richie still asleep or something?” Georgine asked, sounding worried.

“Prolly, given that I haven’t heard anyone else stirring,” the drummer answered.

“I thought our son was the only one here with ya,” Rich, Sr. said, looking confused.

“Oh, no–our bassist, Bobby, moved in with me after his divorce a few months ago,” he laughed, leading them to the kitchen. “He figured it was easier to just sell his home in Florida after he and his ex-wife both were forced to move out here again for a few months, then the divorce on top of it.”

“And if he’s still getting back on his feet, he’s put finding another place of his own lower on his priority list,” the older woman said, nodding her Understanding.

“Pretty much, but neither of us mind,” Rikki told them. “Sure, we’ve spent a lotta Time on tour buses together, so we need our Space, but the house’s big enough to manage that.”

Before either of the older couple could say anything, they were interrupted by a sleepy noise from the top of the stairs. Unsure of which toddler it was, he held up a finger and told them to hang tight while he went to see which toddler was awake. He didn’t want any of them falling down the stairs, especially since they were curved and led to a Marble floor at the bottom.

The drummer wasn’t surprised to see the toddler he was hoping to see as he got to the top of the stairs, who’d apparently heard voices from upstairs. Richie’d plunked himself down at the top, looking like he was about to start scooting down them, if nobody’d responded to his lil noise. Instead of giving him the chanceta go sliding, he picked him up and snuggled him against his chest, gently rubbing his bare back as he headed back to Bobby’s room. He figured he’d need a fresh Pull-Up, not to mention wouldn’t wanna face his parents mostly nude, considering he was still a grown man up top.

The pint-sized guitarist kept quiet as he let him change his Pull-Up, then help him get dressed, seeing as his rhythmic counterpart and Zach were still asleep. Both were snuggled up in the toddler bed that Bret’d surprised him with the afternoon previous when he’d shown up with the items on his list. He’d remembered what an Independent brat their bassist’d been last Summer, and he’d figured that a toddler bed would work out better than a crib.

In wanting to be fair since it wasn’t just him who’d been de-aged this Time around, he’d bought a second toddler bed for Richie, too. They’d been set up against the wall the pint-sized bassist’s King-size bed had been against the previous Morn, a lil nightstand between them. That nightstand was just low enough for them to reach the lil lamp that’d been put on it, just in case they woke for something in the middle of the Night. Both wanted to be as Independent as possible right now, and if that meant making it to their potty chairs whenever possible, they’d take smaller furniture. That meant the bassist’s son having to share a toddler bed with his daddy, but they both seemed content enough with that as they slept in.

“Prepare yourself for some squealing and cheek-pinching, dude,” Rikki said softly as he headed downstairs once he was changed and dressed.

_“Eh?”_ The pint-sized guitarist cocked a brow curiously, his eyes still holding the glaze of Dreams.

“Your parents got here right before ya woke up,” he told him, chuckling when he rolled his eyes.

_“Ugh.”_ Richie wasn’t looking forward to how he knew his mother’d treat him once she clapped eyes on him in his current state.

“I know, I know–she’s bound to see ya as just a toddler at first,” the drummer said, rubbing his back. “But we’ll prove her wrong with those _Scrabble_ tiles, if we gotta.”

He shrugged as if to say, _Okay_ – _whatever it takes_.

Rikki couldn’t help another chuckle as he walked into the kitchen with him on his hip, his neck craned to kiss the top of his head. He quickly settled him on the Marble countertop of the island, where his parents’d settled on the bar stools at End closest to the built-in fridge. The pint-sized guitarist let out a big yawn as he stretched his arms over his head, then gave a sleepy wave to said older couple.

“Oh, my God,” Rich, Sr. breathed, his eyes widening as they locked on his son.

“He looks _just like_ he did when he was a Year or two old,” Georgine squealed, gently pinching his cheeks.

The drummer laughed as he whined and swatted at her hands. “I wouldn’t do anything to irritate him too much,” he warned her.

“He’s too adorable _not_ to wanna pinch those chubby cheeks,” she laughed.

“And still the same up top as he was this Time two Days ago,” Rikki said. “Add in not being fully awake yet, and yeah–we don’t need any temper tantrums.”

“Wait, what?” the older man asked. “Whaddaya mean, he’s the same up top?”

“Just bear with me–and _don’t_ try to take ’em from him,” he answered as he dumped out the _Scrabble_ tiles in front of his conscious, de-aged band mate.

“He’ll choke, though!” his mother protested.

“No, he won’t,” the drummer reassured her. “He’s still got sense enough not to put them in his mouth.”

Richie gave his mother a slightly dirty look before grabbing and rearranging tiles once they were all flipped over so the letters were visible.

_“Just ’cuz I’m trapped in the body of a toddler doesn’t mean I’ve the mind of one, Mom,”_ she read once he was done, her eyes widening in shock.

_Trust me, this isn’t as fun as you’d think it is,_ he spelled out. _It sucks not really being able to do anything for myself_.

“At least you’re not alone there,” Rikki chuckled. “Just remember that when ya start getting too frustrated.”

Nodding, the pint-sized guitarist looked back to his parents when they asked what he meant.

“I’m guessing Bret didn’t tell ya that another one of our band mates woke up like this, too, when he got in touch with ya?” he countered.

Rich, Sr. and Georgine shook their heads in a negative response, both looked as confused as they did curious. Before he could even get a chanceta explain what he meant, he turned at hearing a sleepy grunt to see Bobby toddling into the kitchen. He was amazed that he’d managed to get downstairs without hurting himself, but then again, maybe he shouldn’t have been–he’d done that and worse when his back was turned last Summer, after all.

The pint-sized bassist yawned as he let him pick him up, glad he’d somehow managed to change himself, even if he’d been forced to throw his clothesta the bottom of the stairs and grab them when he got to the foyer, himself. Rikki laughed as he stood him on the island to get him dressed, not surprised he’d to wait for him to rub the sleep outta his eyes before he could get his chosen shirt on him.

Once he was dressed, the lil guy turned his attention to the newcomers, reaching out to grab the Wooden tiles he needed. Glad he could read upside-down, even when he was half-asleep like he was now, he spelled out a greeting as quick as he physically could before looking up at them. They seemed surprised as they read that greeting, Georgine gingerly grabbing his lil arm to inspect the tattoo on it that she’d seen. She was surprised that it’d stayed intact when he’d woken up like this, which made him shrug once she let go of his arm, but she was about to be even more surprised.

“That was actually how we figured out who he was when this happened last Summer,” the drummer said, now working on breakfast.

“Wait, say what?” the older man asked.

“Yeah, this isn’t the first Time this has happened to Bobby,” Rikki told him. “Long story short, the entire band needed to learn how to Communicate with each other–and even folks outside the band–better than what we were. To that End, the Universe decided to turn him into a toddler to kinda fast-track that.”

“Well, that’s certainly _one_ way to get your point across,” the older woman laughed. “But what’s that got to do with Richie now, though?”

“A friend of ours thinks pretty much the same thing’s happening all over again,” the drummer explained. “It could be that they need to Communicate certain things with each other, maybe it’s with the rest of the band–we don’t really know that part.”

_We’ll figure it out eventually, even if it takes a couple months again,_ Bobby spelled out.

The pint-sized guitarist shot him an incredulous look, which made him giggle as he rearranged tiles again.

_Yeah, I was stuck like this for about two months last Time,_ he spelled out. _Learn from my mistakes quicker, and we’ll both wake up normal again sooner than that_.

Before Richie could really get a chanceta protest that, they were distracted by Mishy coming into the kitchen with her own son on her hip. Said lil boy reached toward the island with a sleepy whine and all but mewled, _Da-daaaa,_ which made the pint-sized bassist reach out to him in Return. Giggling softly, his mother set him down between the toddlers already sitting there, smiling as he snuggled against his miniature daddy like he was gonna go back to sleep.

“Um…” Georgine said, looking confused as she glanced between her and the lone blonde.

“Oh, sorry–where’re my manners?” she laughed.

“Apparently, still in Dreamland,” Rikki chuckled as he started plating breakfast. “This is Bobby’s ex-wife, Mishy, and their son, Zach.”

“Oh, my,” the older woman said, looking surprised.

“I came over yesterday to drop Zach off since it’s Bobby’s weekend with him,” Mishy explained. “When I realized what was going on, Rikki and I decided on me staying, too, so they’d still get their weekend together without anyone getting overwhelmed.”

_“Ahhhh,_ I see.” Rich, Sr. nodded. “Better than leaving the poor guy on his own with three rambunctious toddlers, that’s for sure.”

Nodding his agreement, the drummer suggested moving their ever-growing pow-wow to the adjoining dining room so they could eat. He didn’t want any of the boys accidentally squishing scrambled Eggs into his furniture or rug, or he’d have suggested eating in the living room. With all three more asleep than they weren’t still, he didn’t wanna take any unnecessary chances, even if it meant being used as a chair.

The group was agreeable to that since there weren’t enough seats at the island for everyone, nor enough counter Space for all their plates and drinks. Georgine gladly picked up her own son, who actually snuggled against her like he _wasn’t_ still a grown man mentally. Maybe that was just ’cuz he was still sleepy, or maybe it was ’cuz he was closer with his family than his band had realized. Rikki didn’t particularly wanna ask, even though he was curious, ’cuz he didn’t wanna pry into anything _too_ personal. Considering that shit was already a lot more personal than before due to the circumstances really made him wanna keep his mouth shut.

In the dining room, the older woman let Richie sit in her lap, Mishy doing the same with lil Zach across the table. The blonde was quick to get plates and drinks passed out before settling next to the young ginger, Bobby content to sit in his lap while they were eating. All three of the boys seemed even happier to be able to grab handfuls of Eggs off their plates and stuff them into their own mouths, rather than having to rely on any of the adultsta actually feed them.

“So, I gotta ask–and don’t take this the wrong way, son,” Rich, Sr. said, looking up at the drummer as he wiped his mouth. “Who’s supposed to be taking care of our son?”

“Well, unless it’s mutually agreed that it’s better for him to go back home with y’all, that’d be me,” he answered. “I’m already gonna be taking care of Bobby, so yeah, it’ll be a lil harder than last Time, but not necessarily impossible.”

“Wait, really?” Georgine looked surprised. “Haven’tcha gotten in touch with his own mother?”

“We have, yeah,” Mishy answered, nodding. “But Bobby decided he wanted to stay with Rikki when this happened last Summer, and she flew out long enough to reassure herself that he was okay then. She saw how he and Rikki acted with each other, and they decided it’d be better for him to stay out here.”

“She said that she’d forget he was still grown up top too much, and that’d no doubt cause an Endless amount of strife,” Rikki chuckled. “Yeah, it slipped even _my_ mind a few Times, but not as often as it prolly woulda slipped _hers.”_

The pint-sized bassist giggled, nodding as he reached for his sippie cup.

“But why you, though?” the older woman asked curiously.

“Bobby and I’ve always been a lil bit closer than he and the other guys in the band,” the drummer answered. “I wouldn’t necessarily say in a more intimate way, considering we’re not lovers and never have been, but–well, it’s kinda hard to put it into words.”

“Almost like really close brothers?” her husband guessed.

“Yeah, something like that,” he agreed with a nod of his own. “I mean, don’t get me wrong–we’re all close, if ya don’t count still getting to know Richie better. But I’m apparently the one he trusted in a state where he couldn’t take care of himself, although he’d let Bret help him out, if I wasn’t available.”

“And personally, I think it’s better to keep these two together,” the younger woman ventured. “They’re gonna get how the other feels better than anyone, which might help Richie cope.”

“That’s definitely true,” Rikki agreed. “Bobby’s already been through this once, so he’s a few tricks up his sleeves–going through it again at the same Time’ll let him teach him those tricks, if he’s willing to learn.”

The Kotzens couldn’t really deny that they’d a point with that, even though they didn’t realize the drummer was leaving something unsaid for the moment. Having thought back on the afternoon previous at Bret’s and Kelcey’s house, he knew that separating them might never get anything accomplished, if this’d happened as a result of them needing to learn how to Communicate with one another. Bobby having mentioned something about thinking the pint-sized guitarist was attractive’d been what made him think of that, ’cuz he was sure there was more to it than just what lil bit’d been said so far.

Richie couldn’t deny they’d a point any more than his parents could, although he still didn’t really wanna talk about what was on his mind. He knew his parents ultimately wouldn’t care which way he swung, so to speak, but that didn’t mean he wanted to admit his own attraction yet, if ever. Considering the pint-sized bassist was notoriously straight–even had a son and an ex-wife to prove it–he wasn’t sure if anything between them’d ever work out.

Admitting his attraction to him might blow up in his face when any attempt at a serious relationship failed ’cuz he just couldn’t stop himself from cheating with any woman that caught his eye. When he added in the fact that it was prolly too soon after his aforementioned divorce, he really didn’t wanna push his rhythmic counterpart too far with something like that.

No matter why they’d woken up as toddlers and what it’d take to get them back to normal, Georgine and Rich, Sr. insisted on getting to spend some Time with their son. After all, they’d flown all the way across the country to make sure he was all right once they’d gotten Bret’s call, so they wanted to make this trip worth it. It’d also give them a chanceta see how the drummer did as caretaker for both of his de-aged band mates, and allow them to decide whether to let him stay or take him back home with them. While the blonde certainly hoped they let him stay, he knew that getting to see how they interacted with each other for a week or so would build up their Trust in him, and he was readily agreeable to their terms.


	6. Six

By the End of the first week spent as toddlers, Bobby and Richie proved to do excellently under their band mate’s care. He managed to find a balance between babying them like the toddlers they were physically and leaving them to do their own things like the grown men they still were mentally. As if that wasn’t enough, the blonde’d proven to the younger toddler’s parents that he was capable of being a loving caregiver, but still dish out Discipline when they needed it–like when they’d gotten into makeup Deana’d left behind and made a mess with it.

They’d all discussed their options at length, but after seeing how good Rikki was with the two boys for themselves, the Kotzens’d decided to let their son stay out West. Like Lynda the Summer previous, they Feared they’d forget he was still grown mentally, which wouldn’t do anything but stress all of them out. Not only that, but they’d been introduced to Bret, Kelcey, and Marina, and after getting the young Witch’s take straight from her, they couldn’t bring themselvesta take him back to Philly with them.

No one wanted to see the pint-sized musicians stuck as toddlers indefinitely, if they didn’t start growing like they’d done when they really _were_ between one and two Years old. If they really needed to work on Communication–with each other, the rest of their band, outside parties, etc.–they wanted them both to have that chance. They wouldn’t be able to get that, if it was Communication between the two of them that needed the most work, were they to take Richie back home with them. With that in mind, they were also okay with the drummer managing to get his hands on a fake Birth certificate for their son that he signed. After a slight name Change like they’d done with Bobby, he was given the Power to do what he needed to care for him, including ER visits.

“Good Morn, boys.” Rikki’d just come outta the master suite to find his de-aged band mates emerging from their room, the clothes they wanted to wear in hands.

Both grunted at him, rubbing their eyes as they yawned.

“Either of ya need fresh Pull-Ups?” he asked, squatting down so he wasn’t towering over them in an intimidating way.

“Uh, uh,” they chorused as they shook their heads.

“Then what’s say we getcha dressed?” the drummer asked. “We might go out to the park, depending on what the Weather report says.”

Bobby’s eyes lit up at that Thought, although Richie seemed a lil less sure about that.

“Hey, some fresh Air and burning off some Energy’ll be good for ya,” Rikki chuckled, ruffling his hair.

The pint-sized guitarist squealed and batted at his hand, then attempted to smooth it back down.

“Besides, we can try some jamming later this Eve,” he told him. “Bret’s not quite done modifying those ukuleles for y’all to use, so going to the park’ll give him a few more hoursta finish up.”

He couldn’t help a sigh that was equal parts reluctant and dejected as he finally nodded his agreement.

The pint-sized bassist grabbed him for a gentle hug, knowing exactly how he felt since–for the moment–the best he could do was play a few things on piano.

“Like we’ve said several Times in the past week, Bobby knows how ya feel, lil man,” the drummer said as he hugged both at once. “It’s not easy, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make the best of it. Besides, ya get to be as childlike as ya want without getting bitched out for it–and Gods know I’d kill to have that luxury.”

Both boys burst into hysterical giggles at the Thought of Rikki getting to act as childlike as he wanted, but not have to put up with anyone telling him he was more than old enough to know better. Then again, on the other hand, knowing that he’d to be the adult at all Times without much, if any of a break put things back into perspective.

He didn’t think they’d heard any such things over the past week, but there’d been a few Times that both boys’d woken up in the middle of the Night. They’d heard everything from him all but Destroying the master suite for lack of having a punching bag readily available to him jerking off once he thought they were asleep. If they’d thought the drummer’d things any easier than they did, just hearing those things when he’d thought they hadn’t made it pretty clear that he didn’t. But while their Lives were complicated from having to rely on someone elseta care for them, his was complicated from having to provide that constant care.

With Bobby and Richie dressed a short Time later, he got them packed up to head to the park when a check of the Weather report revealed that it was supposed to be a gorgeous Day. He might have a decent-sized back yard, but with the pool and all the concrete around it, he didn’t want them getting hurt or anything. At the park, they’d have plenty of room to run around, not to mention a swing set to make use of that wasn’t available here at home.

Rikki chuckled as they seemed to perk up even more once they were in their car seats, even though the pint-sized guitarist’d been so reluctant before. Maybe getting him out more’d help him open up, especially if this mess’d gotten started due to a lack of Communication again. He didn’t necessarily _like_ having to force him outside his Comfort zone, but going by his memories of the Summer previous, sometimes that’s what it took to get shit accomplished. If taking him to the park and making him interact with the pint-sized bassist, as well as other kids _his age_ pushed him far enough outta his Comfort zone to get things back to normal quicker, he was all for at least giving it a shot.

Arriving back at the drummer’s house after spending the afternoon at the park and getting Ice cream as a treat for stellar behavior, said blonde was more than relieved to be home. The boys were snoozing in their car seats after burning off some serious pent-up Energy, their sweet treat causing a bit of a sugar crash. Considering that it was also naptime, as long as he was willing to stay up a couple hours later than normal, he wasn’t surprised that they’d zonked on the ride home.

Luckily for him, Bret was waiting by the front door, his car parked in front of the far-left garage door since there were three bays, and he knew his friend used the middle one. If his friend hadn’t been waiting on him, he’d have to take the boys in one at a Time, or try to wrestle with his keys while not dropping either of them. With his friend here, he knew he wouldn’t have to do either of those things, ’cuz he’d be more than glad to help.

“Wore them out, huh?” the shorter blonde chuckled softly as he stepped outta his car.

“Fuck, yeah,” Rikki answered, nodding. “As long as I don’t let them sleep too long now, maybe they’ll lemme go to bed earlier tonight.”

“How much sleep’ve ya been getting?” he asked, looking concerned by the bags under his eyes.

“Not as much as I should be, I’ll admit,” he sighed. “And that’s been _with_ Richie’s parents here, helping out as much as they dared.”

“Dude, go grab a nap of your own once we get them in,” Bret told him. “I’ll hang around and deal with these two once they wake up.”

“Ya don’t have to do that,” the drummer argued.

“Kelcey can handle Marina on her own for a few hours,” he argued, opening the passenger’s door to get Richie. “God knows she did for Years before I was Enlightened to her existence.”

“She’s also pregnant,” Rikki retorted, even as he leaned in to get Bobby.

“Rik, it’s three or four hours, tops,” the front man insisted. “If she can’t handle a preschooler while pregnant for that amount of Time, she doesn’t need kids. Besides, consider it practice for when we’re on tour again, if we’ve more kids than this in the Future, and we wind up on the road during a pregnancy.”

“I guess that’s true enough,” he finally relented as they headed up to the front door.

Bret knew that his friend was a caring, strong man, but he was also an incredibly stubborn man more often than he wasn’t. Much like every other guy who’d ever been in Poison, no matter what name the band bore at any given Time, he didn’t like asking for help–in fact, he loathed it and did so as infrequently as possible. However, there were Times that he’d to be forced into taking it, whether he liked it or not, and this was just one of those Times.

The drummer settled Bobby in his lil toddler bed, gently pulling his boots and jeans off him, even as he squirmed and moaned softly. As he turned to drape said jeans over the footboard and settle his boots where he wouldn’t trip over them, he saw the same scene playing out at the other toddler bed. Richie let out a soft grunt as he frowned, but thankfully didn’t wake as the front man got him settled and tucked in.

Exhausted almost to the point of delirium, Rikki’d to shake his head to clear it enough to make it to his own bed without quite literally falling asleep on his feet. He really shouldn’t have driven even a couple miles while this tired, especially with not one, but two toddlers in his back seat. Now that his friend could really see how exhausted he was, he knew he’d as soon spend the Night and let him sleep till Morn, if that was what he needed. There was no way he was gonna let him try to wrangle two rambunctious boys on his own while _that_ sleep-deprived, and he knew it. Knowing that arguing’d be absolutely pointless, he didn’t try to fight when he wrapped an arm around his waist and let him lean on him.

In the master suite, the front man got his friend settled and told him not to worry about the boys, that he’d wrangle them for the Night. He wasn’t too sure the taller blonde even heard him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he veritably passed out before he could even take his boots off. Despite not wanting to do such a thing, Bret sighed as he pulled said boots off, then forced himself to tackle his jeans so he could sleep comfortably. Looking at it like undressing the pint-sized guitarist just minutes earlier helped him with that, and he was soon tucked into his own bed for the Night.

* * *

Downstairs in Rikki’s kitchen about an hour later, the front man was finishing up a kid-friendly recipe Kelcey’d taught him that he thought the boys’d like, said girlfriend on the phone. He’d decided to call her and let her know that he was gonna spend the Night to wrangle his de-aged band mates, ’cuz he was worried that the taller blonde wasn’t getting enough sleep.

“I swear, he was practically asleep on his feet as he got outta his car,” Bret was saying, the receiver held between his shoulder and the side of his head.

_“Why on Earth would he even_ try _to drive like that?”_ she asked, sounding flabbergasted. _“He knows that’s dangerous, especially with two kids in the back seat!”_

“You’re telling me, hon,” the front man sighed. “He _literally_ passed out before I could even get him completely on his bed.”

_“Ya gotta be shitting me,”_ Kelcey said. He could imagine the look on her face, which made him chuckle.

“I Wish I was,” he told her. “Dude sat down on the edge of his bed like he was gonna kick his boots off, then flopped back. I’m not even sure he heard me tell him that I’d handle those two for the Night before his eyes rolled back, and he was gone.”

_“Sweet Goddess,”_ the young Witch said. _“We’re gonna have to take them once or twice a week, Marina be Blessed, or he’ll never be able to keep up with them.”_

“That prolly won’t go over well with him, but I’ll deal with that tomorrow.” Hearing something behind him, Bret turned to look over his shoulder and saw the boys in question yawning and rubbing their eyes. “Sorry to cut it short, but I gotta go–they’re up now.”

_“Make sure nobody Ends up with any broken bones, third-degree burns, or any other grievous injuries that I’ma have to patch up after a trip to the ER,”_ she laughed.

“Hey, I’d like to think I’ma better daddy and caretaker than that!” the front man retorted with a laugh of his own.

_“I’ll bring your insulin after we scarf down some dinner since ya originally weren’t planning on spending the Night,”_ Kelcey told him once they’d Calmed down.

He thanked her for remembering that lil detail of his Life, even though he knew he should really have it _before_ he ate. Even though taking it late’d mean he’d need a higher dose, it wouldn’t be the first Time such a thing’d happened ever since he’d gotten his diagnosis at the age of six. With their phone call at an End, he laid the receiver back in its cradle and turned his attention to the boys standing behind him.

Bobby and Richie shot the shorter blonde curious looks as they cocked their heads, both wondering where on Earth the drummer was. They didn’t even remember getting home from the park earlier, so they were hoping that he was all right as they were picked up and settled on the island. They’d to wait for the shorter blonde to dump out the _Scrabble_ tiles for them, which were quickly rearranged into their question as he turned around to actually serve dinner. Only when he turned around again did he get a chanceta read what they’d spelled out, a chuckle bubbling up from his throat as he set their lil plates down.

“Ya two’ve worn him out,” Bret told them. “He was so tired, I dunno how he didn’t fall asleep at the wheel on your way home.”

Both toddlers looked horrified, the same Thought running through their heads.

“Since he passed out prolly before he could hear me tell him anything, I figured spending the Night over here couldn’t be a bad idea,” he continued.

_So, we’re just gonna let him sleep, then?_ Bobby spelled out.

“He needs it, so yeah,” the front man answered, nodding. “Kelcey and I are prolly gonna start taking ya once or twice a week to let him catch up on sleep, too, but we’ll talk about that in the Morn.”

_That prolly won’t go over well,_ Richie spelled out. _I’m not sure who’s more stubborn_ – _you, him, or Bobby_.

Said pint-sized bassist stuck his tongue out, making both man and boy laugh as said man settled with his own plate.

“Yeah, we’re all pretty stubborn,” Bret admitted. “Which’s why we sometimes kinda have to force each other to do shit we don’t wanna do.”

The pint-sized guitarist was careful to keep his Thoughts from being read in his expression, still nowhere near ready to talk to his rhythmic counterpart about what was on his mind.

“But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.” He shot him a reassuring smile. “Sometimes, we _need_ that extra push to get a few balls rolling. We usually try _not_ to force each others’ hands, though, instead of just letting the others open up when they’re ready to.”

Richie heaved a sigh of relief, then dove into what’d been put in front of him with as much gusto as the other toddler next to him. Both were hungry after a long, busy Day for them, even though Rikki’d made sure they got a good lunch while they were out and about. Course, after they were done eating, both wanted to check out the ukuleles the front man was supposed to be modifying for them to use.

Said front man chuckled as he made them wait long enough for him to clean up their mess, which made them both grumble and huff. Having that Creative itch when any other guitar–even one designed for kids–and especially a bass were too big for them absolutely sucked. That was why their drummer’d even suggested modifying the smallest thing resembling a guitar they could actually find. All they’d to do to Create the tiniest bass on the Planet was change the strings so one was outfitted with the thicker, lower-pitched strings Bobby typically used on his basses. Creating a T-ninety guitar was a bit harder, but he’d finally managed to get two additional tuning keys, as well as a new nut and bridge onto a ukulele.

Once the mess’d been cleaned up and the kitchen restored to rights, Bret took them into the living room, where he’d stashed his Creations. He knew they weren’t the best quality since he was a musician, not someone who built his gear for a living, but they oughta be good enough for the Time being. It wasn’t like they Intended theseta be what they wrote and recorded a new album on or anything, so he hadn’t meant for them to be worthy of being sold by Fender, Gibson, or the like.

“Let’s see how well they play,” he said, settling on the edge of an arm chair with his own guitar.

Bobby readjusted the T-ninety bass he’d been handed, grinning almost maniacally as he plucked at the strings. Dissatisfied with how it was tuned, he turned his attention to getting it to sound like the only full-size acoustic bass he owned, or at least as closeta that as he could manage. After a few moments, he’d managed to achieve the Sound he wanted and turned his attention to picking out one of his band’s songs.

“Sounding pretty good, even though you’re missing a few notes,” Bret chuckled as he tried to run through _Talk Dirty to Me_.

The pint-sized bassist stuck his tongue out at him as if to say, _I’d like to see_ you _do any better in this shape!_

“All right, all right,” the front man said. “Let’s see how that T-ninety guitar turned out now.”

Nodding, Richie went through the same steps till he’d gotten it to sound like all his other acoustic guitars did, then turned his attention to actually playing. Even though, like his rhythmic counterpart, he wound up missing a few notes, he was able to play through something he’d been writing for a while. He wasn’t too sure that they’d like it, so he was surprised when he looked up to see both their jaws dropped to the upper bouts of their own instruments.

“Damn, man,” Bret finally chuckled. “That was actually pretty good.”

The pint-sized guitarist blushed slightly, but took the compliment in stride.

“Sounded like ya missed a few notes, though,” he told him. “I’ma blame that on smaller hands that don’t wanna work quite the way you’re used to, though.”

Richie nodded, grumbling as he flexed his tiny hands, his new guitar resting in his lap.

“Try running through it a lil slower,” the front man told him. “Maybe I can figure out enough of it to play it the way it’s supposed to sound.”

Nodding again, he moved his hands back into position, the blonde leaning forward to get a better look at the chords he was trying to make.

“Let’s see here,” Bret muttered under his breath, mimicking him as much as he could.

Bobby just sat back, watching and listening as they managed to play in unison, the front man managing to catch the notes his Melodic counterpart’d missed before.

“Now, that sounds a helluva lot better,” he chuckled once they’d played the song through. “Whatcha calling it–or does it even have a name?”

Laying his mini guitar on the couch where it wouldn’t get knocked off, the pint-sized guitarist slid down and started rearranging the _Scrabble_ tiles that’d been brought with them from the kitchen. Standing back after a few moments, he let his band mates read the lone word he’d spelled out, hoping it’d make sense once they saw the lyrics he’d been writing.

_“Stand?”_ Bret asked, cocking a brow.

Moving to furiously rearrange the tiles again, Richie spelled out the first verse till he ran outta the letters he needed.

_“We call carry the cross, and speak what we’re taught_ – _lies and money become the white man’s God. We’ve burned all our Bridges one too many Times_ – _the Time has come now to draw the line,”_ the front man read aloud, knowing the pint-sized bassist prolly couldn’t see from this angle. “So basically, it’s meant to say, _Time to take a stand for what we believe in, so get up and fight?”_

The pint-sized guitarist squealed as he clapped and nodded.

“I’m digging it, kid,” he chuckled.

Bobby nodded his agreement when he turned to him for his opinion.

“Let’s hear what else you’ve got, if there’s anything else,” Bret told him.

Richie hauled himself up on the couch where he’d been sitting before and grabbed his mini guitar again, actually eager to show them. He still missed a few notes here and there, but considering the circumstances, he didn’t do nearly as bad as he’d thought he would. In fact, the front man was able to catch on and play it _without_ missing those notes pretty quickly, which made him squeal again.

After they’d played the riff through to its End, said blonde told him that it kinda sounded like a mixture of Poison’s hit ballad, _Every Rose Has its Thorn,_ and a couple of their blusier tunes combined. It was soft and slow like the aforementioned ballad, but it’d the same kinda bluesy, Southern-rock kinda Sound that their songs _Good Love_ and _Let it Play_ had. Overall, it didn’t sound that bad, but he was curious about the lyrics now, which made the younger toddler lay his guitar aside again. He needed to spell out as much of the first verse as he could with those _Scrabble_ tiles since he didn’t have the notebook he’d written them in.

It took him a few moments, but the pint-sized guitarist finally spelled out, _Lately, I can tell that somethin’ ain’t right_ – _I don’t see the Fire when I look in your eyes. One Time up, and the next Time down_ – _this may be the last Time thatcha see me around_. That seemed to really catch his band mates’ attention, but he was more than a lil nervous about showing them the rest of the verse, let alone the chorus. Neither of them knew it, but this was an incredibly personal song for him, based on the breakup he’d gone through right before moving to Cali.

“So, what’s the next part?” Bret asked. “’Cuz I’m sure that ain’t all of it.”

He bit his lip for a few moments before finally starting to rearrange the letter tiles again.

_“Well, it sure seems to me, nothin’ matters tonight_ – _and all those things we worked out, they got lost in the fight. It’s not enough, girl, that I gave you my Soul_ – _I just wanna know if we’ve got anything left at all, and I say…”_ the front man read, wincing as he processed the lyric. “Ouch, kid.”

Richie wasn’t quite sure how to take that, so he almost thought he didn’t like it.

“I’m not saying that, as in I don’t like it,” he explained. “I’m saying that ’cuz it _really_ sounds a lot like _Every Rose_ now.”

Even the pint-sized bassist nodded his agreement as he shot him a sympathetic look of his own.

Catching his confused look, Bret started playing the opening riff of the song in question, even though he was currently using a six-string. It didn’t sound quite right to his ear since he normally played it on a twelve-string, but it was good enough for now since it wasn’t like it was a live show. Even Bobby tapped his fingers on his mini bass since his riff didn’t come in for quite a while, a lil over a minute into the song.

_“We both lie Silently still in the Dead of the Night_ – _although we both lie close together, we feel miles apart inside… Was it something I said, or something I did_ – _did my words not come out right? Though I tried not to hurt you, though I tried_ – _but I guess that’s why they say…”_ Bret sang, trailing off there since they hadn’t gone into the chorus of this new song he’d been presented.

Richie’s eyes’d widened as he listened, and he now nodded his Understanding as he got what he’d meant by comparing the two songs’ lyrics. It was pretty obvious they were both breakup songs directed at someone from their Past, both so full of Emotion that they veritably overflowed with it. But despite the content of the song’s lyrics, he couldn’t deny that the shorter blonde possessed a powerful voice, even if it wasn’t quite as rich and powerful as his own. Then again, those kinda differences were what made them unique, and he could always appreciate such characteristics in others.

It was only a couple more hours before both boys started getting tired again, and the front man was starting to get kinda glad. He still needed to take that dose of insulin, and his high sugar was starting to make him feel more than a lil _off,_ but he hadn’t wanted to turn his back on the boys. Once they were in bed, he’d take care of himself since he wasn’t feeling like he was gonna pass out or anything, which was good.

Bobby and the pint-sized guitarist both put up a bit of a fight, but were pretty quick to finally give in to their mutual exhaustion. As he tucked them both into their toddler beds after getting them through their new Nightly routine, Bret couldn’t help a smile. It was so much like putting his own daughter to bed, even if these two were grown mentally, and it kinda made him miss her. At least he wouldn’t be gone for very long before he saw her again, which made him not exactly look forward to another tour in the Future. Putting that Thought aside, he went back downstairsta take care of his sugar before calling it a Night himself, Rikki still passed out cold, too.


	7. Seven

When Rikki woke the next Morn, he thought it was still fairly early at first since the blinds being closed and curtains mostly drawn made it seem a lot Darker than it really was. But rolling over and peering at his alarm clock sleepily revealed that it was nearly ten-thirty, which startled him into bolting upright. He didn’t even bother with grabbing his jeans from the previous Day, nor taking a Morn piss before he hauled ass down the stairs. Usually, both of his de-aged band mates got up around eight or eight-thirty unless they managed to stay up till Midnight or later, so they’d have been up for a while now.

Left completely unsupervised, there was no telling what Bobby and Richie’d gotten into by now, especially if they’d decided to make a mess ’cuz there was nobody to feed them. The drummer honestly wouldn’t have put trying to burn his house down in retaliation for something like that beneath those two, especially the pint-sized bassist. He knew damn good and well that lil bastard was a bit of a Fire-bug, despite being ruled by one of the three Water signs when it came to the Zodiac.

Getting down to the living room, where the back door opened to the back patio, he was surprised to hear squeals, laughter, and splashing galore. A quick look through the glass revealed that the toddlers he’d nearly given himself a heart attack over were in the pool, but thankfully, they weren’t alone. They were both swimming just as well as they did as adults, but Bret was close enough to pull their heads back up, if they started going under. Not only that, but Kelcey was also sitting on the edge with her legs hanging into the shallow End, their daughter giggling madly as she swam with the boys. And the first Time either of them seemed like they were heading toward the deep End, whichever adult was closest’d grab them and pull them back to the shallow End before they could.

Sighing as he realized they were fine and actually supervised, Rikki chuckled as he turned to head back upstairs for a few minutes. He doubted they wanted to see him in his boxers since someone’d pulled his jeans off him any more than he _wanted_ to be seen in nothing more than that. Besides, he really had to piss since he’d been asleep for hell-only-knew how long at this point, so he didn’t wanna waste Time. If they hadn’t been supervised by someone, he’d have gone tearing out that back door, barely dressed be damned. Since they _were_ supervised and it was pretty clear to him that no one was dead or in the process of dying, he decided it was a better idea to get himself Calmed down and dressed.

“Well, well, well–look who’s finally awake, boys,” Bret chuckled as he saw his blonde band mate come out the back door a few minutes later.

“’ikki!” they squealed, laughing as they swam closer to Kelcey’s legs.

“Well, at least y’all got _most_ of it,” he laughed, moving to settle next to the young Witch since he’d changed into his swim trunks before he came back down.

“Hopefully, you’re all caught up on sleep now,” the front man said, grabbing his daughter when she attempted to sneak into the deep End of the pool.

“I wouldn’t say _all_ caught up, but enough that I’ll prolly be up till four in the Morn, if they don’t wear me out again today,” Rikki chuckled.

“You’ve been asleep since easily five yestereve, so I’m not surprised,” Kelcey laughed. “But kids’ve a way of wearing ya out, even when you’re fully-rested.”

“Damn, I seriously slept _that_ long?” he asked, looking surprised.

“Dude, I barely gotcha into bed before ya passed out,” Bret told him. “By the way, don’t _ever_ ask me to pull your jeans off again, ’cuz it ain’t happening.”

“I was wondering who did that since I didn’t remember taking them off, myself,” the drummer laughed.

“Seems ya really _needed_ that sleep, then,” the young Witch chuckled. “And speaking of which, no arguments from the Peanut Gallery on this one.”

Rikki cocked a brow at her, wondering what on Earth was about to come outta her mouth.

“Bret and I are gonna take these two at least one Night a week, maybe two, till they’re back to normal–no _ifs, ands,_ or _buts_ about it,” she told him.

“Dude, I dunno how ya _didn’t_ fall asleep at the wheel on your way home yesterday,” the front man cut him off when he started to protest. “If that happened _with_ Richie’s folks here and helping out at least a lil bit, it’s only gonna get worse without _anyone_ to help.”

He couldn’t help grumbling under his breath, his stubborn streak starting to come out.

“Look, I know you’re their _daddy_ for right now, andja _wanna_ do it all by yourself,” Bret said. “Howddaya think _I_ feel when it comesta Marina?”

“But sometimes ya need some Time to yourself, if only to catch up on sleep,” his girlfriend added. “Take it from a woman who was completely on her own for four Years and knows from first-hand experience, if ya don’t take it from anyone else.”

“Hell, take it from _Bobby’s_ mom, considering she did it with _three_ toddlers and _still_ needed help from her folks, considering what Bobby told us,” he continued.

Said pint-sized bassist nodded from where he treaded Water when Rikki looked skeptical.

Seeing no way to really argue with them, the drummer sighed and nodded as he finally acquiesced to their half-hearted demand. He’d known he was gonna need help with these two sooner or later, considering how the previous Summer with just Bobby’d gone, sooner or later. But he hadn’t expected such a thing to happen after a single week, so he supposed that was just part of the learning curve this Time around.

Considering that he was already down on the pool deck, he decided that he might as well actually get in and swim for a while. Marina was delighted by that since he let her ride on his back while he was swimming a few laps, given how bad she wanted to go in the deep End of the pool. Even the boys seemed delighted, ’cuz he made the lil girl tag out and let them have a turn after a few laps so he could be fair to all three. Granted, feeling his band mates’ bare flesh against his for even that short Time was a bit weird, but none of them really paid it any mind.

By the Time they decided to go back in the house since everybody else’d already been out long enough to start turning pruny, Rikki’s stomach was veritably roaring. There was no telling when he’d last eaten anything, ’cuz the front man coulda woken him up for food at some point, and he just didn’t remember it. He doubted that’d happened, though, ’cuz he usually had at least vague memories of waking up for food or bathroom breaks either one.

While he was working on breakfast for himself, the boys squealed excitedly as they clapped from where they’d been settled on the island. Even Bret seemed a bit excited as he brought in the modified ukuleles he’d been working on, Kelcey following with his own full-size acoustic guitar. The drummer cocked a brow as he handed the T-ninety bass and guitar to its respective owner, wondering just what on Earth they were up to. He wasn’t expecting them to start playing a song he hadn’t heard before, considering the band hadn’t really started working on anything new before half of it woke up as toddlers. If anything, he expected them to run through an old, but well-loved hit to show him how much Richie’d been practicing their existing tunes.

“You’ll have to forgive a few missed notes here and there,” the front man said, settling on a bar stool. “Their hands’re so small and uncoordinated that I’m amazed they can play half as well as they can like this.”

“Kinda expected, if we’re all honest about it,” he agreed, nodding.

“Well, this is one Richie’s been writing for hell-only-knows how long,” Bret told him. “I’m actually really digging it, if only ’cuz it sounds like a blusier version of _Every Rose.”_

“Oh, really?” the drummer chuckled, waving his spatula in an expectant gesture. “Well, get to it, then–now y’all got me curious.”

“Good thing the lil man managed to spell out the lyrics with those _Scrabble_ tiles for me,” he laughed, nodding to said pint-sized guitarist.

Nodding, Richie got his hands into position as well as he could, surprising him with just how well he played the riff he’d been working on. It was obviously a lead riff, and it definitely had more of a bluesy Sound to it like a couple other songs Poison’d already put out, but it was certainly slower like _Every Rose_. After about ten seconds, the pint-sized bassist picked up with a bass riff that almost sounded like he was playing a lead riff to him, their front man playing pretty much the same riff in a higher key.

_“Lately, I can tell that somethin’ ain’t right_ – _I don’t see the Fire when I look in your eyes. One Time up, and the next Time down_ – _this may be the last Time thatcha see me around, said,”_ Bret sang, Kelcey joining him for an Intended backing line for all but the last word of the second half. _“Well, it sure seemsta me, nothin’ matters tonight_ – _and all those things we worked out, they got lost in the fight. It’s not enough, girl, that I gave you my Soul_ – _I just wanna know if we’ve got anything left at all, and I say…”_

Rikki was actually surprised as he plated his food, not wanting to make a full judgment on the song just yet.

_“Hold on now, baby_ – _this could be the last Time we stand, this could be the last Time that we say goodbye,”_ they continued, even the pint-sized musicians managing to chime in now. _“The picture shatters_ – _I can’t find the wordsta save it. Tell me what to do_ – _how can I make it right? We will always be…Fire and Ice…”_

“Sounding pretty good so far,” he said, chuckling when they all smiled at him.

_“Well, promises made in the heat of the Night_ – _you could sure spit ’em out, girl, but they’ve long passed me by. Nobody knows about the show you put me through_ – _this could be the last Time that I get through to you… And I say…”_

The others were still joining him for their respective backing lines, Richie going all-out on the word _goodbye_ as they repeated the chorus.

_“Well, I can’t stand to see no more damage done_ – _but you’ll never understand until you suffer some, and I say…”_

Bret gently clamped his hand down over the Sound hole to mute his strings, the pint-sized musicians following suit as they looked up at him expectantly. They both moved so they were sitting Indian-style, their tiny instruments resting in their laps so he could settle beside the front man to eat. If anyone seemed more nervous than another, though, it was the pint-sized guitarist–which made perfect sense, if he’d really been the one to write this tune.

Settling on that bar stool, the young Witch leaning back against his fridge with her arms crossed under her swollen breasts, Rikki couldn’t help a chuckle. It might never be one of his favorites, if it ever got recorded, but it definitely wasn’t a bad song, and he made that clear. Richie seemed more than a lil relieved, his lil torso momentarily slumping over the upper bout of his guitar before he straightened again with a grin.

“He told us he wrote this about an ex he broke up with right before he moved out West,” the front man explained. “That’s why the lyrics practically mirror those of _Every Rose.”_

“I could definitely hear that part,” he agreed, nodding as he raised a bite to his mouth. “And it’s just as slow, tempo-wise, if ya ask me.”

“That’s what I was telling him last Night when he showed the lead riff to me and Bobby,” Bret chuckled. “When I said something like, _Ouch, kid_ –well, I think he took that as I didn’t like it at first.”

“It’s not thatcha didn’t like it, or ya wouldn’t have caught on to that bass riff well enough to play it as a rhythm riff,” Kelcey laughed. “Ya were sympathizing with him, ’cuz you’ve been through something eerily similar.”

“And I told him that before I played through the first verse of _Every Rose,”_ he said. “Richie only showed us the first verse of this one, so I figured I’d only show him the first verse of the song I was talking about for the moment.”

_The fact that it was starting to get late only added to that,_ Bobby spelled out after making enough room to use the _Scrabble_ tiles.

“So, what’s it supposed to be called?” the drummer asked, looking at the other toddler.

_Until You Suffer Some (Fire and Ice),_ he spelled out. _We can just go with_ Fire and Ice, _though, since the whole title’s a bit of a mouthful_.

“Unlike the other one ya were showing us, which’s only one word,” the front man chuckled.

Richie couldn’t help a giggle as he nodded his agreement, which made the taller blonde cock a brow curiously.

“It’s literally called _Stand,”_ Bret told him. “The basic gist of the first verse–Time to stand for what we believe in, so get up and fight.”

He couldn’t help a laugh as he said that now he wanted to hear that one, too, which just made the pint-sized guitarist blush. The shorter blonde chuckled, making him look up at him with a finger under his lil chin as he gave him a reassuring smile. While Poison might be about partying and having a good Time, that didn’t necessarily mean they didn’t have their serious side. After all, they wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near as far as they had, with or without CC, if they _didn’t_ have a serious side to them sooner or later.

Since he hadn’t shown him enough of the lyricsta get a feel for their rhythm, Bret told him he’d free reign to sing lead this Time, if he really wanted to. He was leaving that up to him, depending on how well he could play a lead riff at the same Time as singing lead. Biting his lip as he gave it a moment’s Thought, he nodded and moved to spell out that he’d give it a shot, but it prolly wouldn’t sound quite right due to his voice being a lot higher than normal. Hopefully, it’d give him a good enough idea to give singing it while playing the rhythm riff that–like _Fire and Ice_ –was pretty much identical to the bass riff for himself. If not, they’d just have to work on that part more once he and Bobby were both back to normal since they didn’t have any other choices.

Turning to said pint-sized bassist, Richie started picking out a riff before pointing at him, which made his brows furrow in confusion at first. Huffing as he reached in front of himself, he spelled out that he’d just played what was supposed to be the bass riff so he’d know what he was supposed to be playing. The pint-sized bassist’s Chocolate eyes lit up as he nodded, now getting what he’d meant when he did that as he got his hands into position. Both of the others gave him a few minutesta try running through what he’d shown him, finally getting their own hands into position once he looked up and nodded.

_“We all carry the cross, and speak what we’re taught_ – _lies and money become the white man’s God,”_ the pint-sized guitarist sang, actually sounding better than they’d expected. _“We’ve burned all our Bridges one too many Times_ – _the Time has come now to draw the line.”_

Rikki shot him a reassuring smile when he grimaced, clearly thinking he wasn’t doing very well, and motioned for him to continue.

_“Ya know you’ve got to stand…stand_ – _stand for what you believe! Ya know you’ve got to stand…stand…stand for what you believe! Ooh, ya got to…stand for what you believe! All right, all right…”_

By this point, even Bobby’d joined him to sing a backing line since, despite his voice being higher than normal, it was still a bit deeper.

_“Ooh, ya gotta listen now… Express yourself in the face of Change_ – _repress yourself, ya surely seal your Fate! Ya gotta look inside_ – _the answer lies in wait… Resurrect before it’s too late!”_

The drummer grinned as they repeated the chorus again, liking this song just as much as the last one.

_“Somebody rescue me_ – _come down, and rescue me! I know the Soul of a good man has got to be free when you stand_ – _stand for what you believe!”_

All three clamped their hands down to mute their strings at this point, having covered as much of the song as they wanted to for now. It wasn’t just Rikki who gave a round of approving applause, but the young Witch and her daughter, as well, which made the pint-sized guitarist blush again. He hadn’t expected them to like his singing, especially since his voice didn’t sound right to him, so he was surprised and humbled by that.

Once the applause’d died away so they could hear each other, Rikki told him that he needed to quit selling himself short. He was a far better guitarist than he’d ever be, that was for damn sure, and he wasn’t even gonna try to say who was a better vocalist so he wouldn’t offend him _or_ Bret. They were both damn good in their own rights and in different ways, so he’d honestly say they were prolly about even on that front. Beyond that, he was sure that trying to label one better than the other was just gonna get a bunch of fighting started, and they’d enough of that before CC’d gotten fired.

Richie was surprised by the praise he’d gotten, which even the front man and pint-sized bassist joined in on, but he still shot him a confused look. Laughing, the taller blonde told him that he could play enough guitar to start getting an idea across, but that was about it. What lil he could do really didn’t amount to more than knowing how to tune one and slowly run a scale or two, which was why he’d ultimately wound up being a drummer–he could carry a beat better than he could come up with riffs, and he was happy enough with that.

Giggling, Bobby reached out to rearrange the _Scrabble_ tiles again, what he spelled out saying that he was just barely any better on piano than the drummer was on guitar. Sure, he’d figured out how to play enough to record a few parts here and there, not to mention play them onstage, but that was about it. Even when Bret and Rikki insisted that he was better on piano than he gave himself credit for, he blushed and waved off their words in a non-verbal swear that they were just glossing up his abilities. Nobody could help some amount of laughter at that, the taller blonde saying they’d have to work on these two songs more later on. They all agreed on holding off on vocals unless the shorter blonde wanted to practice till they were back to normal, though.

What they all _really_ hoped for was that that _normal_ came sooner rather than later, and that was the part that made Richie more nervous than showing them his songs.


	8. Eight

After another two weeks stuck in the body of a toddler, Bobby was starting to get more than a lil frustrated and temperamental about it. He’d already figured out that the other de-aged musician was hiding something, and due to Kelcey teaching him how to tap into his instincts more, he’d started getting the feeling that it highly involved him. What the other toddler was hiding was a Mystery to him, and he was sick of waiting around to find out, so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He didn’t Intend to really force Richie into talking to him–even if it _was_ through those damned _Scrabble_ tiles–but he figured being honest with him couldn’t hurt. Maybe showing that kinda Trust in his younger band mate’d get him to open up quicker, ’cuz it’d show him that he could be trusted just as much. If it actually worked and this whole situation _was_ Communication-based again, maybe it’d get them back to normal quicker, too.

Seeing how he couldn’t fail unless he simply didn’t try at all, the pint-sized bassist managed to make sure he and his Melodic counterpart were up from their nap earlier than Rikki. The lil guy wasn’t happy about him waking him up when he’d been sleeping good, but the look he gave him shut up even the most infantile complaint he started to give. He didn’t particularly want the taller blonde walking in on this, and he knew the other lil guy definitely wouldn’t, if he actually managed to get him to talk to him. Considering those things, he just motioned for him to follow him, leading him into the living room once they’d gotten downstairs.

_Whaddaya want? I was sleepin’ good,_ the pint-sized guitarist spelled out once they were at the coffee table with those _Scrabble_ tiles.

_I wanna have a serious heart-to-heart,_ Bobby spelled out in Return. _And what I wanna talk about_ – _well, I don’t want Rikki see what I’ve to say any more than I think you’ll want him seeing your responses_.

His brows furrowed as he suckled the paci in his mouth, then gestured to him to get to it as he reached up to rub the sleep outta his eyes.

_I wasn’t kidding when I said at Bret and Kelcey’s that I think you’re attractive_ – _that goes for right now as toddlers as much as when we’re normal,_ the pint-sized bassist spelled out.

Richie’s brows shot up to nearly his hairline in surprise after he’d read that.

_I didn’t wanna say anything before, ’cuz I was fresh outta a divorce and we barely knew each other,_ he continued after giving him a chanceta read. _I didn’t know if it was just from being lonely or what, and I didn’t wanna toy with ya_.

_Well, I’m grateful for that, at least,_ the pint-sized guitarist spelled out, sighing as he let him read. _I’ve had enough of others toying with me in a Romantic sense_.

_I’m not even gonna ask, kid_. Bobby giggled as he let him read before rearranging the tiles again. _It’s not my business till ya decide to tell me on your own, so why waste my Time and breath?_

He couldn’t help a giggle of his own as he nodded his agreement.

_The whole point of getting ya up from naptime early, though_ – _well, I figure if I show some Trust of my own, maybe it’ll get you to do the same_.

Richie looked thoughtful as he looked up from reading that next response, his mouth working at his paci again.

_I’m not saying we’ve to dive into anything right off the bat, us being toddlers be damned,_ the pint-sized bassist spelled out. _But why hide that I’m attracted to ya unless it’s from the other guys till we’re both damn good and ready to tell them?_

_I guess that’s fair enough,_ he spelled out.

Bobby continued rearranging tiles into various sentences, pausing to let him read in between each one since it was easier that way. He told him that if the attraction wasn’t mutual, that was fine–it wouldn’t be the first Time in his twenty-eight Years such a thing’d happened to him, after all. However, if it _was_ mutual–well, he was willing to go at the pint-sized guitarist’s pace, but he wasn’t waiting around forever. As much as he didn’t wanna toy with his Melodic counterpart, he didn’t wanna be toyed with, himself when he could just move on to bigger and better things.

Richie was still so nervous about admitting even his attraction that he was borderline terrified, but the pint-sized bassist’s words were still reassuring to him. It actually made him almost consider just spilling his guts and getting it over with, but he was still afraid of being rejected. As if that wasn’t enough, he still Feared that giving things a shot with him’d just End in Disaster due to cheating or something.

Seeing that he was getting a lil too worked up, said pint-sized bassist just grabbed him in a tight hug, although he scattered the tiles before he did. He could already hear the drummer heading downstairs, and he hadn’t been kidding about not wanting him to see what he’d been telling him. Considering how he was now acting, he was more sure than ever that the pint-sized guitarist wouldn’t want him to see, especially when he momentarily stiffened in his grip. After that first few moments, he wrapped his arms around him as he Returned the hug, careful not to hurt him with his paci as he buried his face against his neck. It was a bit odd to him how Comforting and reassuring that hug really was, but he couldn’t remember the last Time he’d felt like this, either.

Hearing Rikki chuckle in the living room doorway made both boys look up from their hug to see him standing there, his shoulder hitched up against the frame as he crossed his arms over his chest. The drummer seemed pleased that they were playing nice, rather than fighting as they took out their frustration on each other. Both boys giggled as they came to that conclusion, then mutually decided to hide their conversation by starting to clamor for food so he wouldn’t ask any questions.

* * *

Later that Night, hours after they’d been put to bed so the drummer could get some sleep of his own, Richie found that he couldn’t sleep to save his Life. Even hearing his rhythmic counterpart’s slow, even breathing from just a couple feet away couldn’t relax him enough to fall asleep. Their conversation, one-sided though it was for the most part, was replaying in his brain–which wouldn’t shut up and turn off for shit.

He’d feigned being asleep moments after Rikki’d tucked him into his toddler bed as much as he’d feigned getting tired since he was just in one of his introvert moods. The drummer deciding that it was prolly about bedtime for both boys’d worked in his favor, ’cuz now he was free to think all he wanted without being questioned. Not only that, but he could be pretty closeta Bobby without getting any weird looks, even though he doubted the pint-sized bassist’d do any such thing at this point. It was a win-win all the way around, as far as he concerned, but it was also making him feel lonelier than ever, despite the other toddler being just feet away.

A huff escaped from around the paci that always wound up in his mouth when he was put to bed, whether it was for naptime or for the Night. Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Richie peered through the Darkness at the toddler bed across from his own. His rhythmic counterpart was sprawled out on his back, his limbs flung in every Direction possible and his head turned so that he’d have been looking at him, if he’d actually been awake.

Unable to help a soft giggle, the pint-sized guitarist finally decided to simply take his chances and kicked his covers off himself. He hoped that Bobby wouldn’t get mad at him for what he was about to do, if he even woke up at all, but he’d just have to take any backlash that came in stride. Moving those couple feet to the other toddler bed, he was careful not to make any noise, if he didn’t absolutely have to so he wouldn’t wake him. His lil mouth worked at his paci nervously as he finally took a deep breath and reached out, gently pulling the covers back to expose more of his torso. The other toddler frowning in his sleep, judging by how his brows furrowed, made him bite back a startled squeak as he dropped said covers.

_“Mmm?”_ The pint-sized bassist cracked his eyes open, thinking he’d accidentally kicked his covers off himself and caused a draft.

Richie bit back a whimper–or at least, he _thought_ he managed to bite it back.

_“’ichie?”_ He yawned after pulling his paci outta his mouth and sitting up a bit.

The pint-sized guitarist couldn’t help a whimper now, thinking he was about to get in trouble as he felt his Pull-Up grow wet right at his crotch.

Apparently sensing that he was, for all Intents and purposes, scared absolutely stiff, Bobby pushed himself completely upright as he yawned again. Not once in the three weeks they’d been stuck like this had his Melodic counterpart woken him up, especially not in the middle of the Night, and it was making his daddy instincts come out. He was starting to worry that he’d a bad Dream or something, and that he hadn’t been able to get into Rikki’s room, so he’d decided to wake him up instead.

Turning on their lil lamp made both boys wince at first, their eyes taking a few moments and several blinksta adjust to the sudden flare of Light. Once he could see straight enough, the pint-sized bassist realized that Richie was absolutely terrified, clearly thinking he was in trouble now. The only other thing he quickly noticed as he tossed his own legs outta bed was that his Pull-Up was sagging and at risk of falling completely off.

Knowing that he’d pissed himself at least once, he mumbled something unintelligible as he pointed toward his adjoining bathroom. He realized that he kinda had to go himself, now that he was awake, and his own Pull-Up was feeling kinda damp against his crotch. Instead of going back to bed in such a state, he figured he might as well go use his potty chair and change himself, now that he’d proven he could. And if his Melodic counterpart’s Pull-Up was so saturated, it was nearly falling off him, he figured a quick change couldn’t hurt the other lil guy, either.

“’esh go,” Bobby finally managed to get out, rubbing his eyes as he toddled off sleepily.

The pint-sized guitarist followed him nervously after a few steps, unsure of what his Intent was.

By the Time he’d joined him in the bathroom, his rhythmic counterpart was settled on his potty chair, the cabinet door open. Since their pack of nighttime Pull-Ups were right next to the normal ones, he realized that he musta needed a quick change of his own. Deciding to focus on getting himself cleaned up, too, he shucked his own saturated one and settled on the other potty chair that’d since been moved outta the master bathroom.

Once he was done, the pint-sized bassist didn’t particularly care about his bare ass being on full, proud display for anyone who cared to look. He was more interested in grabbing fresh Pull-Ups for both of them, which was why he ignored feeling Richie staring from where he was still seated. Besides, he knew it was gonna take some fancy footwork to get his PJ britches back on without falling once he got that Pull-Up on, considering that Rikki apparently wasn’t awake. There was no sense in letting himself get so distracted that he lost his balance and fell, only to crack his head on something, especially in his sleepy state.

The pint-sized guitarist pulled his paci outta his mouth long enough to shoot him a thankful smile when he turned and handed one of the Pull-Ups in his hand to him. He was struggling to ignore what a cute ass he possessed in this state, and therefore keep his mind to wondering how gorgeous it really was as an adult. After all, he’d tried not to pay much attention before, and now a part of him was starting to regret that decision more than a lil bit.

After getting his Pull-Up on without falling, Bobby snatched up his PJ britches and leaned back against the now-closed cabinet door. Having something to lean against while trying to manage this part was definitely helpful, and it seemed that the pint-sized guitarist thought so, too, judging by how he followed his lead. Once they were both dressed again, he climbed up on the lil step stool that Rikki’d left in here for them and batted at the light switch till he managed to flip it down, Richie already heading back into the bedroom ahead of him. But before he could climb back into his lil toddler bed since he’d clearly woken him up for something, he gently grabbed his Melodic counterpart’s arm.

“Wha–” he started to ask around his paci.

“Chu wan’ sum-fin,” the pint-sized bassist managed to say. “Chu woke meh ups for a weason.”

Richie blushed furiously, having thought he hadn’t figured out that he’d woken him up on purpose.

“C’mon,” he managed to say through a yawn, grabbing his paci again. “Wan’ seeps.”

“Chu…sure?” the pint-sized guitarist asked uncertainly, the second word slightly mispronounced, even with his paci now outta his mouth.

_“Nuuuu_ arguing,” Bobby said, collapsing onto his lil bed. “Seepy.”

Seeing no real way to argue with him–which he really didn’t wanna do, anywhore–Richie shrugged and grabbed his pillow from his own toddler bed. The pint-sized bassist scooted over and dragged his own pillow under his head, clearly making room for him to lay down beside him. He looked like he was already half-asleep again, but totally up for some cuddling–which he recalled had freaked him out three weeks ago.

A soft sigh drifted from around the nipple of his paci as Bobby settled down comfortably, the pint-sized guitarist settling next to him. He couldn’t help a soft, content hum as he tossed an arm over him, already tangling their legs together as the pint-sized guitarist reached down to pull the covers up over them. It was a bit of a tight squeeze with both of them in the same toddler bed now, but it wasn’t really that much different than when he’d to share it with his own son. Since no such thing was guaranteed to happen again and he was such a cuddler to start with, he didn’t really mind the tight quarters as he drifted off again.

Cuddled up to the pint-sized bassist and able to soak up the warmth he radiated, Richie found himself starting to drift off just a few minutes later. He’d thought he wasn’t gonna get any sleep at all after they’d been put to bed, but now he found himself too cozy and comfortable _not_ to fall asleep. The soft rhythm of the other toddler’s breathing was a bit louder, now that he was closer to him, and he could also feel his heartbeat from where they were snuggled so close.

Unable to help himself since their legs were already tangled together and he’d an arm draped across his waist, the pint-sized guitarist draped his own arm over Bobby’s. The other toddler hummed softly and somehow managed to snuggle even closer, but it was pretty obvious that he was already asleep again. A smile crossed his face as he lazily rubbed his back and readjusted his own head so he could breathe a lil better, but otherwise didn’t move. Richie’s last conscious Thought before he finally faded into the Depths of sleep was that he hoped this was an Omen of the good kind. He wasn’t too sure what he’d do, if he tried making any moves on the pint-sized bassist–like this or in their normal forms–and only wound up getting his heart broken.


	9. Nine

Dim Sunlight starting to stream through the mostly-closed blinds was what woke Bobby early the next Morn–too early for his liking. He didn’t know what Time it was, but he _did_ know one thing–he was too warm and cozy to wanna get up just yet. But being greeted by an irritable grunt when he squirmed made him crack open his eyes, anywhore, and he couldn’t help a smile around his paci at what he saw.

Snuggled as close as he could get with his face almost completely buried in his pillow, Richie was dead to the World next to him. As he lay there watching him sleep for a few moments, everything from overnight started coming back to him one memory at a Time. How the other toddler’d woken him up by pulling his covers off him, the two of them winding up in the bathroom for a quick potty break and Pull-Up change, him telling him to just get in bed with him–all of it. The memories were a lil on the fuzzy side, but clear enough for him to remember what’d happened, and he blamed that on being mostly asleep at the Time.

Not ready to get up, himself and unwilling to disturb his impromptu bed partner, the pint-sized bassist laid his head back down on his lil pillow. He was still just enough asleep that it didn’t really feel much different than cuddling with Zach physically, but he felt a closeness with his Melodic counterpart that he didn’t feel with his son. Maybe that was ’cuz they were both technically grown men, or maybe it was something else–he just didn’t feel like thinking right now since he didn’t feel like getting up yet, either.

_“Awww_ –what a pair of cuties.”

Hearing someone’s voice, Bobby peeped up through one eye and saw Rikki standing in their bedroom doorway, an uncharacteristically Serene smile on his face. Barely lifting his hand so he wouldn’t disturb the other toddler still, he waved just enough to let him know that he was actually awake before settling back down. He was still Intent on going back to sleep, but it seemed the drummer’d other ideas as he came into the room and settled on the toddler bed across from them. After all, it wasn’t like any of Poison’s adult frames were so heavy that they’d break the smaller furniture or anything, so it made a perfect, if slightly low-sitting chair for him at the moment.

“Do I even wanna know why y’all’re in the same bed?” he chuckled.

The pint-sized bassist just shrugged, still mostly asleep as he suckled his paci.

“Did he’ve a bad Dream or something?” Rikki asked, his brow furrowing in concern.

His own brow furrowed a bit as he shrugged again since he honestly wasn’t sure.

“Poor lil guy,” the drummer said, reaching out to gently rub his back.

Richie whined around his own paci as that gentle touch drew him from the Depths of sleep way too soon for his liking.

_“Shhhh,_ lil guy–go back to sleep, if ya wanna,” he said Soothingly.

_“Mmmph,”_ the pint-sized guitarist grunted, squirming as he became aware of his need to go.

“Well, all right, then–let’s get both of ya changed and dressed for the Day,” Rikki chuckled, careful to keep his volume low since they’d just woken up.

Bobby grunted as they disentangled themselves and sat up, not even having the presence of mind to be even the slightest bit embarrassed. His Melodic counterpart blushed slightly, though, as he let out a big yawn and stretched before sliding outta his bed to toddle off to the bathroom. Course, he was the one who hadn’t really wanted to talk about anything the Day previous, so he wasn’t exactly surprised by that.

While they were taking care of Morn potty breaks and changing their own Pull-Ups, Rikki started pulling out clothes that fit their personalities. He’d done a bit more shopping to buy stuff that Richie liked, considering that his style was a bit different from the pint-sized bassist’s. Not only that, but he’d needed a few more supplies–like more Pull-Ups and wipes–in addition to sleeping accommodations for both of them. Thankfully, he’d already paid Bret back for half of what he’d bought for them, even though the front man’d insisted that he really didn’t have to do that.

Since Bobby was the first one outta the bathroom, he asked him again as he was helping him get dressed if he knew what was up with the pint-sized guitarist. Again, he shrugged before grabbing his forearms for balance so he could step into his lil jeans, not wanting to give away their conversation. He wasn’t about to rat out his Melodic counterpart like that, especially with a topic he’d seemed so reluctant on having even a one-sided conversation about.

“Didja have a bad Dream last Night or something?” Rikki asked as he helped the other toddler get dressed a few minutes later.

Said toddler was quick to nod, then rub his arms like he was cold, too.

“And somehow got cold on top of it, huh?” he chuckled, bunching his shirt up to make getting it on him easier.

Again, Richie nodded, holding his arms up to get them through the sleeves.

“Ya shoulda said something when I was putting y’all to bed,” the drummer told him. “I coulda turned your fan off, or turned the AC up a lil bit.”

He simply shrugged again, considering his _problem_ taken care of well enough.

“Well, don’t hesitate to speak up, even if it’s by playing _Charades,_ if that happens again,” Rikki told him. “I can’t be having either of y’all getting too cold or anything.”

Both boys giggled as he picked them up to head downstairs for breakfast, thankful he hadn’t seemed to pick up on why they’d _really_ wound up in bed together.

After a solid week of going to check on his band mates first thing in the Morn and finding them in the same toddler bed, Rikki finally called Kelcey to see if she’d any ideas. That lone toddler bed was too small for both of them, but he couldn’t seem to keep them from sharing for shit, no matter what he tried. Not only that, but there’d to be some psychological reason they were wanting to share a bed, considering that it was never very cold in the house and he didn’t think _anyone_ could have that many bad Dreams in a row.

“Ya don’t remember what Bobby said about thinking Richie was attractive that first Day ya brought ’em to the house, do ya?” she laughed.

“Actually, I _had_ forgotten about that,” the drummer chuckled. “I mean, neither’ve brought it up again that I know of, so it totally slipped my mind.”

“I’d bet my left tit it’s something to do with that,” Kelcey told him. “If not, then they’re both just big on cuddling when they’re asleep.”

“Could be either/or, I guess,” he agreed. “But what am I supposed to do about them sharing a too-small bed? Somebody’s gonna wind up getting hurt, if they keep pressing against the rails from not having enough Space for them both.”

“I’ve an idea, but it’ll have to wait till they wake up from their nap,” the young Witch said.

Rikki wasn’t quite sure what was going through her eccentric brain, which made him cock a brow.

“I’m thinking we combine them into a toddler version of a King-size bed,” she told him. “As in, we screw the frames together after we take the rails closest to each other off or something.”

“That might actually work, if they’re gonna _keep_ doing this,” the drummer said thoughtfully. “And I can see why it’d have to wait till they’re up again.”

“I mean, I’m thinking of it kinda like how combining two twin beds makes a King,” Kelcey elaborated. “It obviously _won’t_ be quite the same, but it’ll give them a lil more room.”

“Kinda makes me wonder what we’re gonna do on Bobby’s weekends with Zach since he usually shares his bed with _him_ then,” he mused.

The young Witch was quick to say that maybe they oughta get a third toddler bed to put on the other side of whichever one was gonna wind up closer to a wall. All that’d have to be done was both guard rails on the one that wound up in the middle’d have to be taken off, but it could work. In fact, they could either just get extra toddler bedding for that third one, or they could look into getting a twin or full bedding set to use on all three at once, if they did that.

Rikki was quick to agree with that, even though he was a bit unsure about spending more money than what he already had. But their conversation was quickly cut short as they heard the boys managing to get downstairs, both knowing they’d prolly be ready for lunch. They’d have to wait till they were fed to even think about trying to put this idea into action, and that was if they even wanted them to do such a thing.

Both were surprised when Kelcey picked the pint-sized bassist up to settle him on the island, only for him to gasp and whimper as he squirmed in her grip. He hadn’t behaved like that once ever since this whole mess’d started up again, so it was definitely outta character for him. His continued squirming–not to mention reaching down to pull at the crotch of his jeans almost irritably–was definitely outta character. What was prolly even more outta character, as well as surprising to the pair of adults, was Richie trying and failing to bite back a giggle as she turned to pick him up once her hands were free.

“What’re _you_ laughing at, ya lil stinker?” the drummer asked, his brow cocked curiously.

Still giggling almost hysterically, he made a gesture that surprised both of them.

“Wait, really?” Rikki asked, turning a shocked look to his friend.

Bobby whimpered as he squirmed again and nodded.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” the young Witch laughed. “I didn’t even think that was a thing.”

“I didn’t, either,” he agreed through his own laughter. “It damn well wasn’t the last Time this happened–at least, that _I’m_ aware of. If it _was,_ he damn well kept it under wraps pretty well.”

The pint-sized bassist flipped both of them off since it wasn’t like he made a habit of broadcasting his bodily functions.

“I’m just surprisedja haven’t _taken care of it,”_ Kelcey chuckled.

He shot a look at the toddler next to him, who mimed an innocent expression as she dumped out the _Scrabble_ tiles for him.

_Yeah, like I’ma beat my meat with someone who’s not a lover_ – _or my son_ – _in bed with me,_ Bobby spelled out moments later.

“Course, that’s _if_ that’d even work for him,” the drummer pointed out. “Even if he can have it Manifest right now, who says that even trying to _take care of it’d_ work for him?”

“I guess that’s true enough,” she agreed. “Butcha won’t know if you’ll only leave yourself frustrated without trying, now will ya?”

The pint-sized bassist huffed since he knew she was right, even as he admitted that she was by shaking his head.

“Might be a way to help with that, though, if your own efforts don’t work,” Kelcey said, looking thoughtful. “We’d just have to _seriously_ keep it under wraps.”

Even Rikki looked confused, if only ’cuz he still didn’t know her nearly as well as his blonde band mate did, and he was sure that even _he_ was still learning more about her. Snickering as she butted her hip against the island, she admitted that she was into what she referred to as _alternative practices_ –and she didn’t mean her chosen Spirituality when she said that. In fact, what she was talking about didn’t even come closeta relating unless one counted something called _Sex magick,_ but that was totally different story.

All three males were surprised when she said that using something called a tens unit for some mild electroshock therapy could actually stimulate a being into orgasm. If the leads were attached near the crotch, the lil device didn’t necessarily have to be turned up so high that all the person felt was pain. It was the electricity it produced that’d stimulate the nerves of that area and potentially send them into absolute Bliss, not pain.

“Well, that’s for those who’re more of sadists than masochists,” the young Witch elaborated. “There’re _some_ nuts out there who actually get off on pain.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped at the mere Thought, even though he couldn’t deny that it was an arousing one.

“We’d just have to keep it under wraps so no one tried having me, Bret, or Rikki arrested on child abuse charges, if we were to letcha try it,” she told them.

“Yeah, I can see why that’d be a concern,” Rikki mused. “Even if it was being done to help jumpstart him, so to speak, no doubt some ignorant dumbass’d say we were really abusing him.”

“And that’s the last thing _any_ of us need, what with everything else going on,” Kelcey agreed.

Even the pint-sized guitarist nodded his agreement, knowing that the implications of such a thing wouldn’t be good for him _or_ his rhythmic counterpart.

“Personally, I say ya try at least servicing yourself before anything else,” the young Witch said, plucking him off the counter. “If ya don’t need it, why even talk about it any further?”

The pint-sized bassist blushed furiously as he nodded, then toddled off toward the foyer as quick as he could possibly manage.

“Let him have his alone Time,” she chuckled when Richie looked like he wanted to follow him.

Startled, he turned those big blue eyes up at her.

“Don’t think I dunno at least the basic gist of what’s going through your lil noggin,” Kelcey chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Your Energy tells me a lot more’n ya think it does.”

The pint-sized guitarist looked downright horrified when she said that, which made Rikki cock a brow in confusion. Clearly not about to rat the lil guy out, she merely smirked as she mimed zipping her lips, clicking a padlock into place, and throwing away two different keys. It was pretty obvious that she wasn’t about to tell him, but he was more surprised when the remaining toddler sagged in relief at that motion. Whatever she apparently knew about him and was referring to, he didn’t want anyone elseta know, so it was bad enough that she did.

Gently picking him up, the young Witch headed for the formal living room on the front side of the house where he wouldn’t hear anything she said. Once they were settled on the couch, she gently tipped his head up so he’d look at her with a single finger under his chin. It didn’t take her but a handful of wordsta tell him that she was far more Intuitive than she often got credit for, and that she wasn’t a psychic medium for nothing.

Richie was beyond nervous, not to mention a lil more horrified than before, when she told him that she could read his attraction to the pint-sized bassist in his Energy. Furthermore, she could sense that attraction went further than that–she’d even hazard a guess and say it was the Beginnings of Love that went further than just brotherly. Not that she planned on telling even Bret, despite their own Romantic relationship and agreement not to lie to each other, but she didn’t blame him for clamming up and being so nervous when the subject got brought up in even innocent conversation.

_I can’t help being scared,_ he spelled out once she’d scattered the _Scrabble_ tiles for him again.

“Question is, what’re ya scared of?” Kelcey asked. “And I’m not asking that to be nosy, or purely outta Curiosity.”

The pint-sized guitarist gave her a skeptical look when she told him that.

“It’s in a Witch’s Nature to wanna help others, if and when they can,” she told him. “But how can I even _try_ to help ya, if I dunno as many details as possible?”

Richie thought about it for a moment, then nodded reluctantly as he moved to rearrange the tiles again. _I’m scared that he’s not really into me, no matter what he says, and that even if we try a relationship, it’s just gonna blow up in my face_.

“And what makes ya think that?” the young Witch asked.

_Seriously? He’s notoriously straight, from what I can tell_ – _even has the ex-wife and son to prove it,_ he spelled out.

“So, maybe he’s actually bisexual, but has been in denial all this Time,” Kelcey said Sagely. “Even _that’s_ not exactly an accepted societal norm, no thanksta patriarchal religion.”

The pint-sized guitarist looked confused as he suckled his paci.

“Pagans were–and even still are–notoriously bisexual,” she explained. “Even Gods like Apollo, Goddesses like Athena, carried on Romantic relationships with other beings of their own gender.”

Richie’s eyes widened, his paci falling outta his mouth as his jaw dropped.

“Far as I’m concerned, patriarchal religions such as Catholicism–which’s basically a Witch’s mortal enemy, by the way–are why such things aren’t accepted and considered normal now,” the young Witch continued, picking the paci up and wiping it off before giving it back to him. “If he was raised under such religious views, Bobby coulda been thinking that his friends and family wouldn’t accept him for who he really was, if he admitted to it.”

His brow furrowed as he suckled his paci in Thought once he’d popped it back into his mouth, then he moved to rearrange the _Scrabble_ tiles again. The pint-sized guitarist wasn’t afraid to admit that she’d a point, at least about his rhythmic counterpart possibly being just as terrified as he was for his own reasons. He admitted that he knew pretty much nothing about Paganism, though, so he wasn’t gonna try to form a judgment there.

Kelcey chuckled as she read his comments on the matter before her expression turned serious again, those Emerald eyes seeming to hold Timeless Wisdom in their depths. She told him that, with all that being said, she’d gotten to know Bobby pretty well since last Summer for not being involved with him Romantically. He wasn’t the kinda guy that’d even admit to attraction without meaning it, and especially not when it involved another one of his band mates. Even as flighty as he could be sometimes, especially when he was drunk, he’d enough sense up top to realize that toying with a band mate could rip the band to shreds.

But were she being honest with him, she knew damn good and well the pint-sized bassist wouldn’t toy with anyone else ’cuz he was a pretty sensitive guy. He felt like he’d been toyed with in a way his entire marriage, and he wasn’t about to do that to anyone else, if he could help it. The other person’s gender was irrelevant when one thought about it as simply human like that–it was a matter of whether one’d any Compassion and Empathy toward another or not.

“That being said, if he’s admitted to being attracted to ya, he means it,” she said. “And it’s not purely superficial, either, knowing him.”

Richie cocked his head at her as his brow furrowed.

“Bobby’s learned enough from me since last Summer to look deeper than the flesh,” the young Witch chuckled. “No doubt he’s seeing personality traits that he likes in addition to physical looks.”

The pint-sized guitarist couldn’t help a blush, if only ’cuz he was guilty of the same thing.

“That was how he found out that he and I actually have a lot in common,” Kelcey told him. “I’m not gonna say exactly what outta Respect for him, even though I don’t mind telling my own story–but he and I relate to each other in ways we can’t relate with the rest of the guys.”

He couldn’t help a surprised look when she admitted that.

“Me telling my own story got him to open up about his–which was one of the ways that he needed to learn how to Communicate so he could Return to normal,” the young Witch explained. “His hiding that part of himself was causing strife, namely in the form of his Jealousy of the other guys.”

Now Richie started to get what she meant by saying this happening to both of them might be Communication-based–and why the pint-sized bassist’d tried to show some Trust in him last week.

“The best thing ya can do–just talk to him,” she said. “Either he’s gonna get it and be able to Empathize, or he’s gonna tell ya that he _doesn’t_ get it, and that you’re better off _not_ trying anything Romantic. But you’re not gonna know either way till ya try.”

Nodding, the pint-sized guitarist moved to hug her by way of expressing his thanks for the advice, then moved back to the coffee table. Rearranging the Wooden tiles again, he told her that he wasn’t sure if he’d actually talk to him anytime soon, but he certainly wasn’t without giving it some serious Thought first. Kelcey chuckled and ruffled his hair as she told him that, while talking to Bobby’d be best, he needed to be sure before he did so. It was likely that nothing’d work out, if he went into it with the wrong Intent or even the slightest amount of uncertainty.

Hearing said pint-sized bassist coming back down from his attempt at servicing himself, Richie reached out and scattered the tiles so they looked like they’d just been dumped out. She couldn’t help a laugh as he essentially erased what he’d been saying from all but both their memories, not really surprised that he wanted to keep this between just the two of them for right now.

Deciding that it was best to give him a chanceta think over what they’d talked about, the young Witch picked him up so they could head back to the kitchen. His lil belly was starting to growl, and she was getting pretty hungry, herself since she was five months pregnant. She couldn’t help a grin as hearing her own stomach growl and poking his abdomen made the pint-sized guitarist giggle as she carried him back to the kitchen so they could eat before actually trying to put her idea from earlier to use.


	10. Ten

After they’d all finished scarfing down lunch and the kitchen’d been restored to rights so they wouldn’t have to worry about it later, Kelcey finally brought up her idea to the de-aged musicians. She made it clear that no one was trying to force either of them into anything before she got into it, carefully watching both to gauge their reactions. If she was worried about anyone having a negative reaction, she was worried about such a thing coming from the pint-sized guitarist–and that was simply ’cuz of the conversation they’d just had immediately beforehand.

Laying out her idea of anchoring at least two toddler beds together for them wasn’t really that hard–it’d be actually implementing it that’d be a lil harder. Bobby seemed like he didn’t mind that idea, judging by his shrug as he glanced at the other toddler still sitting on the island beside him. He actually seemed like he _wanted_ them to implement this idea, if it was even possible, but wasn’t actually _saying_ so.

Richie, on the other hand, seemed more than a lil dubious about them doing such a thing, like he wanted his own Space more than he was admitting to. Considering that he’d admitted to being scared of admitting his attraction to the pint-sized bassist outta Fear of being rejected, or things between them going to shit, she honestly thought that was why _he_ wasn’t really saying much about it. If he was really _that_ scared of just admitting his attraction, he may not wanna be any closer to the other toddler than he had to be, any other reasons for wanting his own Space be damned. That was the main reason why she’d made it clear that no one was forcing them into anything, that doing such a thing was completely up to them.

It took a few moments of heavy Thought, if his expression was anything to judge by, before he finally shot a look at Bobby that could only be called bashful. His head was ducked shyly, and they all knew his hair’d be in his face almost to the point that they wouldn’t have been able to see it, if he’d kept that beautiful mane when he woke up as a toddler. Since his face was unshielded, though, they could all see his expression–not to mention the slight blush staining his chubby cheeks–quite clearly.

“Like I said, we don’t have to, if either of y’all don’t wanna,” the young Witch told them.

Richie looked up at her, the trance between him and the pint-sized bassist broken, then reached for the _Scrabble_ tiles.

_“What we were talking about before be damned,”_ she read once he was done rearranging them.

_I’ve made up my mind on what I said before, but that can wait a lil bit,_ the pint-sized guitarist continued. _If I said I didn’t want our beds put together like you’re talking about, Mom’d beat my ass for lying_.

“Okay, I’m totally lost on that one, butcha apparently don’t want anyone elseta know,” Rikki chuckled.

Richie couldn’t help blushing furiously when even his rhythmic counterpart cocked his head at him.

“We’ll worry about that later–he’s gonna be pushed far enough outside his Comfort zone, as it is,” the young Witch said. “I just wanna know if he’s sure about this before we go spending money on even the hardware to pull this off, let alone a third toddler bed to give ’em even more Space for when Zach’s here.”

Looking up at her, the pint-sized guitarist nodded emphatically.

“Then let’s go have a look-see,” Kelcey chuckled. “I’d prefer getting copies of the hardware that was in the box those toddler beds were in for anchoring ’em together.”

Both toddlers seemed excited by the prospect, but Bobby seemed even happier with the idea of them at least trying to anchor their beds together. If he were honest with at least himself, he’d thought they meant just pushing them together, rails and all, and calling it Grace. This idea was so much better, ’cuz if they moved the nightstand to one side of the bigger bed that’d be made or the other, they wouldn’t have to worry about shit separating them unless they wanted that.

Upstairs in their now-shared bedroom, the young Witch settled on the edge of Richie’s toddler bed before lowering herself to the floor. Being so pregnant, it wasn’t easy for her to do some things, and getting down in the floor or back up from it was just one of those things. Stretching out on her side so that she wouldn’t have to compress her lungs–which were already compressed enough–she took the screwdriver the drummer held out to her. It didn’t take her more than a minute to back out the screw she was staring at so they’d have a reference, then pushed herself back into a sitting position.

Rikki took it and the screwdriver she held up to him, then extended a hand to pull her back up to her feet since he knew she’d trouble with getting up due to her pregnancy. She shot him a thankful smile as they locked hands, using his steady frame to haul herself up so she wouldn’t lose her balance and fall. Once she was upright again, they both picked up one of the boys and headed off to grab essentials so they could head out.

“So, how’re we gonna do this?” the drummer asked once they were in the hardware section of their local Lowe’s.

“Firstly, we gotta get screws that match these,” Kelcey said, holding up the screw she’d taken outta the one toddler bed and since put in her pocket.

He and both toddlers–who were sitting in the basket of the cart they’d grabbed–nodded as they listened.

“Secondly, we’re gonna need a drill bit a hair smaller than the screws,” the young Witch continued. “We get one the exact same size, and the holes I’ma drill will End up being too big.”

“Sounds like ya really know your stuff,” Rikki chuckled.

“My pappaw was into woodworking and worked as a carpenter in his younger Years,” she admitted. “My mother being big on DIY when it came to home improvement projects only reinforced that.”

“Hey, if it lets us even _try_ this idea, I’m game,” the drummer said.

“Well, I say we get enough to anchor three toddler beds together,” Kelcey told him. “Even if we _don’t_ get a third toddler bed for this idea, having spares in case we drop a screw can’t hurt.”

“Might as well make it enough to anchor four together.” He looked thoughtful. “I’m leaning more toward anchoring three together so there’ll be room for Zach, too.”

Even Bobby nodded at that, ’cuz on his weekends with his son, he wasn’t kicking him outta his bed just ’cuz he was sharing it with the pint-sized guitarist.

“Looks like it’s settled, then,” the young Witch laughed.

Perusing all the different types of screws, she was quick to find the section that held nothing but Wood screws, which was what they needed. From there, she started pulling down various lil packets, holding them up next to the one already in her hand till she found the size she needed. Rikki was actually a bit surprised that she’d accomplished such a thing so quickly, ’cuz he was absolutely lost, but if her family’d been into woodworking for generations, maybe he shouldn’t have been.

Only the pint-sized bassist seemed to notice Richie’s slightly displeased look at knowing even he’d wind up having to share a bed with Zach, if they went through with this. He hadn’t thought quite that far ahead when they’d proposed such a thing, and while he wasn’t regretting his decision, he was also thinking a lil deeper. Now knowing that his attempt at servicing himself’d worked, he knew that sharing a bed with his rhythmic counterpart could lead to some–ahem, interesting Nights. But there was no way such a thing’d happen, no matter how much either of them wanted it to, if the third toddler was in bed with them. He knew without having to ask and not even really knowing him very well that Bobby’d veto that, if his son was next to them.

From the hardware section, Kelcey led them over to the power tool section, mainly ’cuz the drill bits were across the drive aisle from it. As it turned out, the drummer didn’t even own a drill since he wasn’t into this kinda thing, which made her roll her eyes as she laughed. She said that if there was one thing besides screwdrivers, wrenches, and a socket set that every house needed, it was a drill. Even if it was seldomly used, it was better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it, as far as she was concerned.

Having acquired all the tools and hardware they were gonna need for this lil project, they decided to head over to the nearest baby store. Even Richie was surprised by how focused she was, considering that she was pregnant and no doubt in need of certain things for her baby-to-be. She didn’t let any of the baby clothing or toys they passed distract her from her mission, her feet carrying her straight to the furniture section. That was when she started looking down one aisle after another till she found the furniture piece she sought, which was when she finally turned down an aisle.

* * *

Back at Rikki’s house a couple hours later, he was glad they’d taken both his car, as well as the young Witch’s on their lil excursion. They’d wound up getting not just a third toddler bed to accommodate Zach when he was there, but two new nightstands so they’d have one for each side of the bed. These new nightstands were just as low as the one already there, but they actually matched each other and would keep some semblance of symmetry within their room. However, once they got back to the house, it was up to the drummer to get all this new furniture upstairs since she couldn’t do any heavy-lifting.

“All right, boys–watch out,” Kelcey said, gently dragging the toddlers back.

“Yeah, ’cuz even though this thing’s lighter than I thought, it’s still awkward,” he grunted, wrestling with the box of that third toddler bed.

Neither de-aged musician wanted to get hurt, so they were quick to step back with lil prompting.

“While we’re waiting on Rikki to get the drill set up, let’s get these two broken down as much as we’re gonna,” the young Witch told them.

Bobby giggled as he started pulling his bedding off, a pile soon in the floor across the room.

“Looks like he’s tired of that design, so I guess it’s a good thing we got new bedding,” Kelcey laughed.

“I guess so,” Rikki agreed, getting the bit she handed him anchored into the drill. “Even though that meant spending even more money on this.”

“Not like you’d have it any other way, if it means these two stay _outta_ the system,” she told him.

“Yeah, true enough,” the drummer said. “’Cuz I’d rather spend myself broke taking care of them, rather than watch ’em wind up in the system ’cuz nobody realizes who they are.”

Even Richie shuddered at the Thought, his mouth working at his paci as he made a neater pile of his bedding next to the pint-sized bassist’s.

The boys were actually more of a help getting the mattresses off their beds than she’d thought they’d be, given their smaller sizes and less coordinated motor skills. But once they were off, leaving just the bare frames against the wall, Kelcey made them pile into a chair that’d been in the room before all this started. Neither of the adults wanted them to get hurt, and certainly not ’cuz even a light toddler bed frame fell on their head or something.

Before she did anything else while Rikki was working on that drill bit was get where she wanted new holes drilled into the legs marked. One of the many sayings she’d grown up on was _Measure twice, cut once,_ and she applied that to even drilling holes in something. It was best if the legs were screwed together at the same point on both Ends of the bed, or she’d have just eyeballed it and called it Grace.

Richie and Bobby both seemed fascinated as they watched her drill the holes she needed, even though they covered their ears due to the racket produced. Before they knew it, she was getting the drummer to hold one of the frames still so it wouldn’t hurt even her, let alone her unborn baby. It was certainly easier than trying to lean them up against a wall and hope she didn’t strip a screw or anything, which was an absolute nightmare to fix later. Still, both boys watched in Awe as their bed frames were soon screwed together, the extra–now unnecessary–guard rails laid aside.

“I think that oughta work out pretty well, as is,” the young Witch said once the newly-expanded frame was set back on its feet.

“It might be a _lil_ on the snug side, depending on how they wind up laying,” Rikki mused with a critical eye.

The pint-sized guitarist shrugged since he normally slept on his side when he was alone, and usually managed to stay in a mostly straight line.

“What–saying that’s usually not much of a problem for you?” the drummer asked.

He couldn’t help a giggle as he nodded.

“Then I’m guessing that’s gonna be more of a problem for Bobby, given what I’ve seen him do in a tour bus bunk,” Rikki laughed.

Said pint-sized bassist let out an indignant squawk, even though he knew damn good and well he was guilty of all but sleeping on his head in those tiny, coffin-esque things.

“Hey, I’ve seen ya damn near doing a headstand in your sleep before!” he cackled. “You’ll be in your bunk like a normal guy when I go to bed, then hanging upside-down out the side by the Time I wake up!”

“Oh, Bret’s just as bad,” Kelcey chuckled. “I actually had to move his nightstand a lil further out from the side of the bed after I kicked him out one Night and he wound up with a Goose Egg on his head.”

“What’d he do–turn sideways and try to kick _you_ outta bed in his sleep?” Rikki asked.

“Pretty much,” the young Witch snickered. “So, I did the same thing to him ’cuz I forgot just how close his nightstand was–till he cracked his Coconut on it.”

“Guess he got his poetic Justice that Night,” he chuckled, both boys giggling up a Storm at this point.

“But yeah, leaving it like this’d work, if it were just these two sharing,” she told them. “’Cuz I’m sure the first Time Bobby did more than just drape his legs over him, Richie’d kick _him_ outta bed, too.”

Richie giggled mischievously as he nodded, his rhythmic counterpart huffing as he glared at him.

“We can still add that third frame while we’re at it for the next Time Zach’s over, or we can wait and see if they wake up normal again before then,” Kelcey continued. “After all, Bobby was stuck like this for a lil over two months last Time, and it’s only been about a month this Time.”

“I say we just go ahead and add it while we’re at it,” the drummer said. “’Cuz I dunno the first thing about drilling holes, so I’d prolly wind up breaking something.”

Laughing, she told them to give her a minute for a quick potty break, ’cuz her baby was starting to feel like a boulder on her squished bladder. But even as she headed off to a different guest bathroom so the boys could take a potty break of their own, she called over her shoulder that he was prolly right. It took some practiceta be able to drill holes without breaking the bit one was using, which was as much a pain in the assta fix as a stripped screw that wouldn’t come back out.

After everyone was done with their potty breaks, the young Witch decided on getting down in the floor to drill this set of fresh holes. The room’s ceiling was decently high, but she didn’t think it was quite high enough to manage what they were trying to accomplish. Not only that, but even if it _was_ high enough, she’d need a step stool to reach her target–and she didn’t feel like taking her chances with one of those right now.

Rikki still laid down in the floor so he could see what she was doing, the boys watching from across the room where they were still settled in Bobby’s recliner. Laying on her left side so her right arm wasn’t hindered since she was right handed, she’d those holes drilled out in no Time. Before they knew it, she even had the new screws in, that third frame now securely anchored to the one that’d once been just the pint-sized bassist’s. Now, it was just Time to get those mattresses back on–or on for the first Time, in that third toddler bed’s case–so they could see if the boys’d even have enough room. After that part was done, they’d worry about deciding whether the twin or full bedding set was needed to fit across all three mini-mattresses.

Bobby and the pint-sized guitarist both were able to fit in this newly-anchored bed with ease, both their bodies mostly on the mattress of the middle one. No matter how they sprawled out and curled up, they didn’t come anywhere near closeta knocking each other outta bed, even when a head wound up using a crotch as a pillow for a few moments. That’d been the whole Intent by doing this, and Kelcey was glad to see that her idea seemed to be working pretty well. However, they all knew that the _real_ test’d come that Night after they were put to bed since they’d be unaware of their movements once they were asleep.


	11. Eleven

After they’d gotten the boys’ newly-expanded toddler bed made up–which Ended up requiring Kelcey to go back to the store and trade both the twin _and_ full-size bedding for a California King set–the drummer needed to run a couple more errands. Since she was there, he all but begged her to watch them for a couple different reasons, mostly so he wouldn’t screw them outta naptime, if they were tired enough. His other reason–which was visible to her in his eyes–was that he needed a lil bit to himself to clear his head, so she was all for watching them.

If that hadn’t been reason enough, it was getting about Time to take Bobby’s car out on the road before it basically just withered itself away in the garage. That ’74 Firebird was one of his biggest Prides and Joys, although few actually knew he had it since he preferred letting the public think otherwise. Most thought he was into just Harleys, or the ’87 Toyota MR2 he’d had when they were recording _Open Up,_ but that wasn’t true.

The bassist’d actually inherited his muscle car from his biological dad a few Years after they’d moved out West from Pennsylvania. Having never had him in his Life as a child–although he hadn’t told his band that at first–he almost hadn’t had the paperwork done to have the title put into his own name. When Bret’d found out he was even thinking about that, he’d told him to do it, or he’d look into buying it for himself, ’cuz he loved Firebirds, especially seventies models. Not about to let him have such a gem of a car, only to more than likely wreck it in the then-near Future, he’d glared at him as he grabbed the pen extended to him and signed his name where necessary with a flourish.

Not quite ten Years later, the almost twenty-Year-old car still ran like it was fresh off the lot the Day his dad bought it back in ’73 when it first came out. Bobby almost lavished far attention on that car than he’d ever lavished on a woman–even his ex-wife–and now they all knew why. However, it also proved that he and the pint-sized guitarist’d more in common than they’d originally thought, which finally came out when Rikki told him what kinda car he was taking out.

_Really?_ he’d spelled out with the _Scrabble_ tiles. _That’s one of my favorites, but I’ve never been able to find one that wasn’t better off in a junk yard!_

“Yeah, really,” the drummer chuckled. “Lemme tell ya, not being able to drive it’s prolly eating Bobby alive more than anything else right now.”

_I don’t even wanna have sex as much as I just wanna drive my car like I stole it!_ the pint-sized bassist spelled out, which’d made everyone crack up. _Hearing that purr ain’t the same as being behind the wheel, damn it!_

“I know, I know–but at least I’m still making sure it gets taken out for ya,” Rikki told him. “Speaking of, I prolly oughta grab Bret while I’m out this Time so we can swing by and get Richie’s car before it winds up falling apart.”

_Even though it’s a ’92, I’d rather my own Firebird stay in one, unrusted and undry-rotted piece,_ the pint-sized guitarist spelled out.

“Where’s the keys, then?” he asked. “’Cuz I wasn’t paying much attention that Morn we foundja in a piss-soaked bed.”

_Should be hanging on the key rack next to the front door,_ Richie spelled out. _If not, check my nightstand next to the phone and my bathroom counter_ – _those’re the only other places I ever put them_.

“Your bathroom counter, as in _not_ the half-bath off the kitchen that I saw, right?” the drummer clarified.

He nodded, knowing he never even went in there except to make sure there was still toilet paper, if he’d someone over–which was rare.

Returning the nod, Rikki’d grabbed the pint-sized bassist’s keys and bid them goodbye for the Time being, then headed out to his garage. Bobby’d perked up and practically started vibrating on the couch, knowing what was coming as he sat there listening Intently. Even the young Witch couldn’t deny that if he’d ears that moved, he’d have been cocking them toward the garage like a Cat or Fox.

Moments later, they all heard a roar that made poor Richie jump at first, that roar slowly settling down into what could only be described as an orgasmic purr. Kelcey couldn’t help a laugh as she watched the older toddler slump, a goofy smile on his face like he’d just gotten off as he enjoyed the Sound of his car running while he could. Sadly, that Sound faded far too soon for his liking as the drummer backed outta the garage, only pausing to make sure there was no traffic coming before he backed out into the road. Only seconds after that, they heard the motor rev out front before it started to fade, and he was off to run his errand.

After getting Bobby cleaned up since he’d actually managed to have an immaculate orgasm right in his Pull-Up, she’d started to put the boys down for a nap. They’d a busy Morn, what with going out to get that hardware and a third toddler bed, so she didn’t doubt that they were both tired after such an adventure. Having to stay up a bit past naptime so all three of those toddler beds could be put together no doubt woulda made them tired, even if they hadn’t been already.

The pint-sized guitarist’d other ideas, though, as evidenced by the next thing he spelled out, now that everything was Calm and quiet for the moment. When he’d said that he’d made up his mind about what he’d told her before they went on that excursion, he hadn’t been kidding. He just hadn’t wanted to have this conversation–even through the _Scrabble_ tiles–where Rikki might walk in and be able to read their responses. Nodding since she knew how incredibly nervous the poor guy was, the young Witch said she’d go work on lunch while they were _talking,_ if they really wanted to skip their nap that much.

_Whatcha want, kid?_ the pint-sized bassist spelled out once they were alone. _’Cuz I really wouldn’t mind a nap right about now, stupid as that might sound._

_To actually show some Trust in ya like you did in me,_ Richie spelled out once he’d read his question.

He simply cocked a brow at him, his mouth working at his paci as he gestured for him to continue.

_I didn’t say much, ’cuz I honestly didn’t wanna admit that I was attracted to ya,_ the pint-sized guitarist spelled out, pausing to let him read.

_Now I’m curious as to why not,_ Bobby responded. _’Cuz I toldja that I’m not hiding it unless that’s what we both want any more than I’m telling without both of us being on the same page._

_Ya made no bones about being fresh outta a divorce, and I figured it’d be too soon for ya,_ he spelled out. _And even if it wasn’t, I’m terrified of rejection_.

The pint-sized bassist’s eyes widened in surprise when he looked back up at him.

_I’d rather not take a chance at all than get rejected by somebody I really like,_ Richie continued nervously. _Especially when I’d swear it goes well beyond just physical attraction, even as soon as this_.

It took him a few momentsta gather his Thoughts from where they’d been scattered to the far corners of the Universe, but he finally moved to respond. _Kid, I wouldn’t rejectcha aside from one simple reason_ – _and that’d be ’cuz I thoughtcha weren’t being genuine, not ’cuz I don’t like ya just as much_.

The pint-sized guitarist couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief around his own paci.

_I’m not gonna say I love ya, or anything like that,_ Bobby continued. _Like Kelcey_ – _or Siren, whatever ya wanna call her_ – _I don’t say those three words without meaning them to the very Depth of my Soul._

_So, you’d rather be absolutely sure before ya tell someone that?_ he spelled out, a curious look on his face.

The pint-sized bassist looked up and nodded after reading his question.

_I can live with that, ’cuz I’m the same way,_ Richie admitted. _Kinda plays into the whole not wanting to toy with anyone else as much as I don’t wanna be toyed with, either_.

He couldn’t help a giggle as he moved to actually hug him, glad to find out they were both on the same page now. Richie stiffened a bit for all of two seconds, if it was even that long, before he melted into the embrace and wrapped his own arms around him in Return. Neither of them noticed the young Witch peeking in from the kitchen, a Serene smile on her face as she watched their intimate moment. If she’d anything to say on the matter, it was that she was glad they were finally making some progress toward Communicating with each other, which’d help the entire band, even if it _wasn’t_ part of what got them back to normal.

Later that Night, long after Rikki’d Returned with Bret and the pint-sized guitarist’s car so that it, too, was tucked safely away in the drummer’s garage, everybody was sound asleep. The other couple’d long since Returned home to their daughter, who’d enjoyed getting a couple hoursta play with the boys. Even though they’d been tired from skipping their nap, they hadn’t been able to turn down an opportunity to have fun–and besides, it’d gotten them in bed earlier than normal, which was a relief to the taller blonde.

Richie was snuggled as closeta his rhythmic counterpart as he could get, his lil head laying on his chest like it was a pillow. The Sound of his heartbeat was far more Soothing than he’d ever admit to, and it’d quickly lulled him deep into Dream Land. But it’d taken him only about an hour after being put to bed to figure out that practically laying on the pint-sized bassist was gonna be the only way to keep him still. The other toddler was such a wiggle-worm once he fell asleep that it was a Wonder he hadn’t fallen outta bed before they’d combined those toddler beds that afternoon. Every Time it seemed that he’d settled into one spot for at least a couple hours, he’d start squirming and wake his bed mate again.

What the pint-sized guitarist didn’t realize was that he normally _wasn’t_ so squirmy when he was asleep, that he just had a penchant to turning sideways in the middle of the Night. Bobby was only so squirmy right now ’cuz–till that afternoon–it’d been what felt like forever since he’d gotten his rocks off. Now that he was sharing a bed with someone he found attractive, it’d set off his subconscious mind with some very interesting Dreams.

Grunting when his squirming woke him again, Richie finally sat up with the Intent to scoot over to the other side of their new bed. He was starting to get grumpy from being so tired, but he didn’t wanna take it out on the other toddler and ruin any chances of anything working out between them. As he sat up and managed to see through the Darkness blanketing the room, his eyes widened as he realized what was really going on. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the pint-sized bassist’s hips twitch every so often, nor his hand soon start reaching down toward his Pull-Up.

_Well, no fuckin’ Wonder he’s such a wiggle-worm,_ he thought as he studied his prone form. _Can’t say I wouldn’t be, either, if I were left in this state_.

The pint-sized guitarist weighed his options in his mind, wondering just how he’d react to being touched by pretty much anyone right now. If he was even half as attracted to him as he claimed, Bobby prolly wouldn’t mind waking up to him helping him out, as long as it didn’t go too far. After all, it wasn’t like he’d given permission for him to start a romp while he was asleep, no matter their physical state, and he felt that’d be pushing too many boundaries, either way.

Finally making up his mind, he took a deep breath as he laid back down and snuggled against his side again, hoping this actually worked. Richie kept his movements slow and gentle as he let his hand drift down the other toddler’s belly, which made him gasp and moan in his sleep. His movements were equally slow and gentle as he managed to worm that hand into his Pull-Up, although he hesitated in actually doing more.

Bobby cracked open his eyes as he felt a hand in an area where he didn’t normally feel one, taking a moment to register that it wasn’t either of his own hands touching him. Momentarily startled, he tried to bolt upright–only to find himself pinned down by someone else, which really freaked him out. A soft _shhhh_ in the Dark caught his attention, and that was when he finally remembered that he and the pint-sized guitarist’d been sharing a bed for the last week. He was still a bit startled, but couldn’t help a moan as the hand he’d felt started to gently stroke him, which made him buck for more.

_“Ahhhh,”_ he whined, pushing his hips up for more as that hand made its way back to his base.

Richie giggled softly as he gently tightened his grip on the throbbing member in his hand.

The pint-sized bassist really seemed to go nuts, even reached down to grab his wrist and prompt him into faster movement.

“Patience,” he managed to giggle, trying to let him know that no matter how much he teased, he wasn’t gonna leave him hanging entirely.

Bobby growled as much as he could, sounding more like a Cat when he did than a Wolf or anything of the sort.

“Chu _nuuuu_ gets left hanging,” the pint-sized guitarist told him, glad they could still say at least a few words.

Letting out an irritated, needy groan, he bucked up into the hand still stroking him again, trying to get more speed than what he was being given. He’d never been one to like teasing, if only ’cuz it drove him absolutely nuts, but he clearly wasn’t Changing Richie’s mind. If anything, his efforts just got him even more teasing when he let go with a devious giggle, clearly telling him to just relax, or he really would leave him hanging.

The pint-sized bassist finally forced himself to relax against the mattress, the only part of him that didn’t being his wayward, unsatisfied cock. He pouted up at his Melodic counterpart, unsure if he could actually see his expression in the Darkness of their bedroom. Apparently, he _could_ see that expression–or he was simply able to guess what it was–’cuz he was quick to giggle again before leaning down to kiss his cheek. Not only that, but he was equally quick to Return to his previous ministrations, muffling a louder giggle in Bobby’s throat when he bucked again with a soft cry.

Both hoped that Rikki didn’t hear them from across the hall and come to check on them, if only ’cuz he knew he’d be left with blue balls, if that happened. Even still, he was forced to pull his pillow out from under his head and hold it down over his face, the pint-sized guitarist’s hand finally moving at the speed he needed. He hoped the pillow now held down over his face muffled his cries, ’cuz a screamer during anything sexual was just one of the many things he was.

It didn’t take long before he could feel that familiar tingling in his crotch and lower belly, and Bobby tried to warn his Melodic counterpart by attempting to squirm away. He wasn’t having any of it, though, judging by how he tightened his grip on his cock just enough to shock him into being still with a momentary burst of pain. Once he went still again, that hand loosened its grip so that it was no longer painful, then picked up that quick rhythm that’d make just about anyone’s arm hurt. Despite his best attempts at holding back, he finally reached the point of no Return and let out a scream he somehow doubted his pillow muffled. Richie’s soft giggle could barely be heard as he bucked like a Bronco, leaving the lil guy’s hand absolutely coated in his Pull-Up.

“What on Earth’re y’all doing in here?”

Gasping as he spun around at the Sound of a voice, the pint-sized guitarist managed to hide yanking his hand outta his rhythmic counterpart’s Pull-Up when he looked up to see Rikki.

“I’m not even gonna ask why Bobby’s pillow’s over his head,” he groaned, closing his eyes as he figured it out just by seeing his friend sprawled out like he was.

Both boys blushed furiously, but only Richie’s stained cheeks could be seen.

“Let’s getcha cleaned up and back to bed, lil dude,” the drummer said, hefting the pint-sized bassist up. “’Cuz I know _I_ wouldn’t wanna go back to sleep without cleaning up first.”

Bobby veritably mewled into his throat as he clung to him, his muscles too much like Jello to support his weight enough to even attempt walking.

Rikki headed into their bathroom with him, not surprised to find his Pull-Up turned into an utter Disaster zone–and _not_ ’cuz he’d shit himself in his sleep. The pint-sized bassist was absolutely humiliated as his friend got him cleaned up and into a fresh Pull-Up, but he supposed it coulda been even worse. He coulda walked in while his Melodic counterpart was still servicing him, or in the middle of a romp, if that’s what they’d been up to instead.

Once he’d gotten him cleaned up, the drummer carried him back to the bedroom since he was still a bit too shaky to walk. Clearly, he’d gotten his rocks off pretty hard–which he’d been able to tell based on the barely-muffled scream that’d ripped him from a dead sleep. Laying the lil guy back down, he hoped this wasn’t gonna become an every-Night occurrence, or he’d wind up putting them in separate rooms.

Twin sighs met his ears as Richie snuggled against his rhythmic counterpart again, their pacis laying next to their heads from where they’d apparently been spit out earlier. He couldn’t help a soft chuckle as the pint-sized guitarist moved enough to give him a quick peck, then blindly reached for said paci. With those rubber nipples back in their mouths moments later, they let the blonde tuck them back in, still mortified that they’d gotten caught–even if it was _after_ their minor shenanigans. But both were quick to fall back to sleep, Bobby so still one could barely tell he was breathing, now that his subconscious wasn’t torturing him for the Night.


	12. Twelve

Waking to a high-pitched shriek and being pounced on wasn’t exactly Bobby’s idea of a good wake-up call, but that was exactly what he got the Morn after his Midnight hand-job. Gasping as his paci fell outta his mouth as something pinned him down, his eyes flew open as he flailed, accidentally whacking his bed mate in the top of the head. Naturally, said pint-sized guitarist wasn’t any happier with their wake-up call, grumbling around his own paci as he sat up and rubbed his poor noggin.

After a few moments, the pint-sized bassist realized it was just his son pinning him down, and Zach was obviously happy to see him. He couldn’t help a sleepy giggle as he reached up and pulled his own paci outta his mouth, then pulled the boy down to kiss his forehead. It was a bit sloppier than he’d have wanted, but then again, he _was_ a toddler who’d just been rudely awoken, so he supposed it was poetic Justice.

Hearing another giggle that didn’t come from himself, his son, or Richie made him look up to see Mishy in their bedroom doorway, her hand over her mouth. Bobby rolled his eyes as he somehow managed to sit up, despite said son still laying on him and not having anywhere near the muscle tone he did as an adult. Said ex-wife couldn’t seem to fight her giggles as the pint-sized guitarist headed for their bathroom with a huff, clearly grumpy from not getting enough sleep as he rubbed the sleep outta his eyes.

“Still every bit the cuddler, huh?” she giggled.

The pint-sized bassist huffed and flipped her off once he made sure Zach wasn’t looking.

“Hey, I never said it was a bad thing,” Mishy laughed, plucking their son outta his lap. “Although I certainly wasn’t expecting it when I let Zach in here to wake ya up.”

He rolled his eyes as he crawled outta bed, then held up a finger before making to follow his Melodic counterpart.

In the bathroom, Richie was grumbling under his breath as he wormed his way outta his PJ britches and Pull-Up, almost losing his balance when one foot got stuck. He was quick to catch him before he could actually fall, earning himself a smile as he held him steady so he could get his foot loose. Once sure he wasn’t about to watch his would-be lover bust his ass, the pint-sized bassist turned him loose and made to take care of his own business so he could spend Time with his son.

“I gotta say, boys–definitely a Creative idea with your beds,” the young ginger said, now perched on the edge of Richie’s side as they came outta the bathroom.

Both de-aged musicians blushed slightly as they readjusted their fresh Pull-Ups.

“Credit goesta Kelcey, though.”

Looking up from getting fresh T-shirts outta their dresser drawer, they saw Rikki in the doorway.

“She was the one to suggest anchoring just their own toddler beds together,” he said, looking at Mishy. “Then we got to thinking, _Wait a minute_ – _Bobby’s been sharing a bed with Zach on his weekends with him, so what’re we gonna do when he’s here, too?”_

“Hence what looks like three toddler beds put together,” Mishy said, nodding her Understanding.

“It _is_ three, and if it’s not enough, I dunno _what_ we’re gonna do,” the drummer said as he got the boys’ jeans outta their closet for them. “This is the widest toddler bed I’ve ever seen, ’cuz it’s as wide as a Cali-King.”

“Sweet Gods–yeah, that oughta give all three _plenty_ of room to work with,” she agreed, taking a second look at the piece of furniture she was sitting on.

 _Till Bobby decidesta turn sideways in his sleep again,_ Richie spelled out with the _Scrabble_ tiles that’d been left out yesterday afternoon.

The pint-sized bassist let out an indignant squawk as Rikki helped him into his jeans, apparently having read what he’d _said_.

“He’s a point, ya goof,” his ex-wife laughed. “Gods, I lost count of how many Times I’d to turn ya the right way just to make room for myself after a single week of dating and sharing a bed, never mind being married to ya!”

Bobby blushed furiously as the pint-sized guitarist giggled hysterically, which earned him a pillow to the face for laughing at him. He hated that his would-be lover was learning this kinda shit ’cuz some folks in his Life couldn’t keep their mouths shut, and it was starting to drive him more than a lil crazy. Course, just being a toddler physically was driving him crazy, so he wasn’t sure how anything else could do much worse.

Once both boys were dressed, Rikki hefted them up for a joint piggy-back ride, which made them both squeal as they clung to his neck. Zach giggled as he managed to talk his mama into doing the same for him, which he’d have normally begged his daddy for. Considering the current circumstances, though, even this lil guy knew they’d just as soon get hurt as have fun, if he tried to appease him. To that End since he didn’t want any of them getting hurt, he’d settle for Mama giving him a piggy-back ride downstairs so they could all get breakfast since his belly was grumbling.

In the living room, the pint-sized bassist set to wrestling with his son while his ex-wife and the drummer were working on breakfast. Richie choseta park himself on the couch since he still wasn’t quite awake and said blonde wouldn’t let him have even a sip of coffee. His excuse was that he didn’t wanna deal with a hyper toddler–nor did he know what other physical effects the caffeine’d have on him–but he suspected he just didn’t wanna share any of what he referred to as _Nectar of the Gods_.

That quickly Changed, though, when the youngest toddler managed to reach up to where he was sitting, snag his ankle, and pull him off the couch. Bobby cracked up as his son took the advantage of having surprised him to pounce, easily pinning him on his back with his weight. Moments later, the stunned pint-sized guitarist gathered his wits and started wrestling him in earnest, clearly Intent on getting his sweet Revenge for that move. Even as Mishy peeked in to investigate the _thump_ she’d heard from his landing, all three boys were howling with laughter and having a good Time with one another. She could only smile and shake her head in amusement as she turned to head back into the kitchen so she could finish helping with breakfast.

“Jeez, Rich–what’dja do to your noggin?” Rikki asked when both adults came back to get the boys for breakfast.

Looking confused, the pint-sized guitarist cocked his head as he looked up at him.

“You’ve a Goose Egg the size of Texas on the back of it,” he said, kneeling down to check him over. “Jesus, and a bruiseta match under your hair!”

Even Bobby looked horrified as the poor lil guy winced at the slightest touch.

“Bobby, what happened to him?” Mishy asked, her inner mommy coming out. “He looks like he’s gonna pass out.”

Richie definitely couldn’t deny starting to feel woozy, now that they weren’t wrestling anymore.

 _Zach grabbed his ankle and pulled him off the couch to join us,_ his rhythmic counterpart spelled out with the _Scrabble_ tiles that’d been brought down for him. _I thought he’d his hand under his head when he landed, or I’d have yelled already_.

“I’ma have to take him to the ER, then,” Rikki said as he picked him up. “He’s a lil too woozy for it to be _just_ a Goose Egg.”

“A concussion, maybe?” the young ginger suggested, looking even more worried.

“At the least, I think,” he answered, nodding. “I don’t even wanna consider worse than that, whether he’s a grown man trapped in a toddler’s body or an actual kid.”

“Prolly the best idea till we get him checked out,” Mishy agreed, grabbing Zach and her ex-husband. “I guess we’re taking breakfast with us.”

“Works for me,” the drummer said, heading upstairsta grab their essentials from the master suite and the guest room she always appropriated when she stayed over.

Quickly packing up breakfast for all five of them, even though she doubted the pint-sized guitarist’d wanna eat now, she was the first one out the door. She got her ex-husband settled in what he pointed out as being his car seat, leaving him buckled in so she could get their son settled in her own car. Just as she got Zach buckled in, Rikki came outta the house with the last toddler in his arms, gently tapping his cheeksta make him look up at him.

By the Time they got to the nearest ER–which was the same one he’d to take Bobby to about his broken hand the Summer previous–the lil guy could barely keep his eyes open. Neither was very sure if that was from a worse head injury than they’d thought, sleep deprivation, or a combination of the two as they got all three toddlers outta their cars and ran inside.

Naturally, the team of nurses that saw them come in were immediately concerned when they saw Richie’s condition and the blonde started to fill them in with what lil bit he knew. Granted, he amended the story to say that his back was turned, so all he’d heard was a _thump_ before he turned to check on them. But since they’d still been playing and nobody seemed to be hurt, he hadn’t thought much of that _thump_ since kids were gonna be kids at all hours of the Day and Night.

“We need to get him up to radiology, then,” the attending said after giving him an exam. “I’m not liking how lil his pupils’re reacting.”

“Please tell me you’re not thinking worse than a concussion.” Rikki normally wasn’t one to beg, but in this case, he couldn’t help himself.

“I’m hoping not, but we need to face the Reality, sir,” he told him. “Your son hit his head on a Marble floor–at his age, that coulda very well caused even a minor brain bleed. Hell, that coulda caused a minor brain bleed in even an adult.”

“Fuck, I was hoping ya _weren’t_ gonna say that,” the drummer sighed.

“Rik, relax–he’s in the best possible place for anything to happen, good or bad,” Mishy said softly as she grabbed his arm.

“I know, I know,” he said as they took up positionsta wait since they refused to go back to the waiting room. Leaning down so he wasn’t overheard as he snuggled Bobby against his chest, he whispered, “How the fuck am I supposed to explain thista his parents later?”

“Same way ya explained it to the doc,” the young ginger told him, careful to keep her voice down. “It was just an accident, Rik–it’s not like we planned this, or Zach meant for it to happen.”

Said toddler whimpered in her arms, feeling bad about hurting his lil buddy so badly.

 _“Shhhh,_ baby boy–ish gon’ be all right,” Mishy murmured, gently kissing his head. “Teh doctors’re gon’ make Richie all betters.”

It was a good half-hour before the pint-sized guitarist was brought back down from the radiology department. They’d given him a head CT, which revealed that while he didn’t have even a minor brain bleed, he _did_ have a nasty concussion. As if that wasn’t enough, there appeared to be just enough brain swelling to be a cause for concern, so they wanted to admit him for overnight observation.

Rikki waited till he was settled in a room in the childrens’ ward to bother going through the address book he’d snatched up before they left the house. He knew this was something he’d _have_ to call the Kotzens about, even though–as far as any outside parties were concerned–he was his daddy. This wasn’t something he could hide from his real parents and hope they never found out about it, considering it was serious enough to get him admitted to the hospital. But since he refused to leave the lil guy’s side, he told Mishy to go ahead and take the other boys back to the house so they could still have their weekend together.

Picking up the receiver of the phone on the table next to Richie’s bed, he punched in the number that’d been written under his parents’ names. It was roughly ten on the West Coast, which meant it shoulda been one in the afternoon, give or take, on the East Coast. As he listened to the phone ring on the other End, the drummer hoped that at least one of his parents’d a Day off and were home, ’cuz this wasn’t the kinda thing he wanted to tell them in a curt message.

 _“Hello?”_ It was a feminine voice that finally answered after a minute or so.

“Georgine, right?” he countered, hoping he was right.

 _“This is she,”_ Georgine answered. _“Might I ask who’s calling?”_

“I doubted you’d recognize my voice since we only met once,” the drummer chuckled. “But it’s Rikki.”

 _“Oh, Rikki.”_ The older woman laughed as she finally placed the somewhat familiar voice. _“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”_

“Well, it’s far from a pleasure, unfortunately.” Rikki sighed as he shoved his hair back. “I Wish I could say I was just calling to shoot the shit, but Richie’s in the hospital.”

 _“Oh, my God_ – _what happened to my baby?”_ she asked, sounding horrified.

“Mishy brought Zach over since it’s Bobby’s weekend with him again. Apparently, Zach pulled him off the couch to wrestle, and he whacked his head pretty good.”

If he hadn’t heard her shaky breathing through the phone, he’d have sworn Georgine’d hung up on him.

“They’re saying it’s just a bad concussion after his head CT, but apparently there was enough brain swelling to make ’em wanna admit him for overnight observation,” he continued.

 _“Jesus Christ,”_ the older woman breathed. _“How’s he doing now?”_

“Seemsta be doing fine,” Rikki told her. “I dunno if he’s asleep ’cuz it’s a side effect of the concussion, or if they gave him a sedative or some kinda pain medicine, but he’s out like a Light.”

 _“So, they’re not worried about his vitals or anything?”_ she asked.

“None of the staff seem to be, so I’m taking that as a good sign,” the drummer answered. “If they start freakin’ out, or any alarms start screaming, _then_ I’ll start worrying, now that he’s in the hospital.”

 _“Ya did the right thing by taking him in, if he was acting even a lil_ off,” Georgine told him. _“Head injuries’re nothing to play around with, especially in someone physically so young.”_

“Trust me, I know that all too well,” he chuckled. “I remember when Bret passed out at a show in ’87 ’cuz of some Health problems of his own–they kept him in the hospital for a few Days ’cuz of that and to make sure he hadn’t hit his head harder than we’d thought at first.”

 _“Just do me a favor and keep me updated,”_ the older woman sighed. _“His dad’s not gonna be home from work for a few more hours_ – _I’m only home ’cuz somebody’d to be here when the plumber showed up today, or I wouldn’t have answered, myself.”_

“Shitty reason to take a Day off work, no pun Intended, but I’m glad I caughtcha,” Rikki said. “This ain’t something I’d have wanted to tell ya in a message, and I didn’t exactly wanna wait for either of ya to call back.”

She couldn’t help a laugh as she agreed that news of her baby boy being hurt was one of the last things she wanted to find out by checking her answering machine. And she didn’t blame him for not wanting to wait on a Return call, if he didn’t have to, even though said baby boy wasn’t doing as bad as he coulda been. Waiting for that Return call no doubt woulda run his blood pressure through the roof till the phone finally rang.

Just as they were about to End their call so Georgine could make herself some lunch, now that the plumber was gone, said lil boy moaned in his sleep. Lowering his voice so he wouldn’t disturb him, if he _wasn’t_ about to wake up, the drummer told her to give him a minute or two, and she might actually get to talk to him. He wasn’t gonna wake him up before he was ready, but if he woke up on his own for something, he’d hand the phone to him. At least then, she’d be able to reassure herself that he was at least somewhat coherent, even if he was mumbling and slurring from just waking up on top of any drugs they coulda given him.

Richie didn’t take more than another thirty secondsta grimace and toss his head a couple Times before cracking open his eyes. Wincing, he scrunched them closed again and grabbed his head like it hurt, then managed to look up at the blonde he just barely made out next to his bed. He couldn’t help a whimper as he squirmed in the bed he’d been put in, which definitely wasn’t the most comfortable thing on the Planet–and certainly not helped by what’d woken him up.

“It’s all right, lil dude,” Rikki said, the receiver cradled between his head and shoulder. “You’re doing just fine.”

“Potty,” the pint-sized guitarist managed to whimper.

“Think chu can hold it long enough for a nurseta come in?” he asked. “’Cuz I dunno how to get all these wires off ya.”

Richie let out another whimper as his other hand reached for his crotch and he crossed his legs for good measure.

“Here, maybe saying _Hi_ to someone’ll take your mind off it long enough for that nurseta show up,” the drummer chuckled, extending the phone as he reached for the _Call_ button on his bed rail.

He looked confused for a minute, thinking it was prolly one of the guys as he reached out to take it.

 _“Richie?”_ The lil guy seemed surprised to hear a feminine voice that _didn’t_ belong to Mishy or Kelcey. _“Oh, my sweet baby boy!”_

“Mama?” Richie asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

 _“Yeah, it’s Mama, sweetheart,”_ she giggled. _“Rikki called to let Daddy and I know what was going on.”_

The pint-sized guitarist couldn’t help a groan, even though he knew it was the right thing to do.

 _“Hey, ya might be grown up top, but you’re still our baby boy,”_ Georgine laughed, careful to keep her volume down for his throbbing head. _“Besides, you’re physically a toddler, so it wouldn’t seem right, if he_ didn’t _try to get in touch with your_ other parent.”

“Me know, Mama,” he huffed. “Head hurts, gosta potty.”

 _“Poor baby,”_ the older woman cooed. _“If there was anything I could do to help with that, ya know I would.”_

 _“Mmm hmm,”_ Richie hummed so she’d know he’d nodded in response.

 _“Get some rest, and don’t try to fight Rikki too much,”_ she told him. _“He’s just looking out for ya till ya get better.”_

“Otays, Mama,” the pint-sized guitarist agreed. “Luz chu.”

 _“Mama loves you, too,”_ Georgine said. _“And Daddy’ll say the same thing once he gets home from work and I tell him what happened.”_

Rikki took the phone back with a chuckle just as a nurse finally entered the room to answer his page, and he quickly told her that he’d keep her updated before they Ended their call. Turning his attention to said nurse, he told her that the lil guy’d woken up from his nap and decided that he’d to go, but he didn’t have the first clue about detaching anything so he could take him to the adjoining bathroom.

Giggling softly, she told him that it was actually protocol to page a nurse for that, especially with a patient who’d previously been more or less knocked out. They wanted to be able to evaluate their patients so they could see how much they were or weren’t improving–or Gods forbid, how bad of a nose-dive they were taking. She didn’t think the pint-sized guitarist was gonna take a nose-dive since he hadn’t already, but warned them that head injuries could be tricky like that sometimes. That was the whole point in admitting him for observation–he could seem fine one minute, then be on Death’s door the next.

After fiddling with the monitor over the left side of his bed for a minute, she turned to the bed to actually start detaching leads. Richie was a bit wary of letting her touch him, but he’d to go so bad that his eyeballs were veritably floating in their sockets. He knew that trying to smack her hands away was just gonna prolong how quick he got to the bathroom, and he _really_ didn’t wanna have to use his Pull-Up. Left with no other choices, he dealt with having to be touched before letting the drummer pick him up, which made him a bit dizzy.

Snuggling him against his chest, said drummer carried him into that adjoining bathroom, the nurse hovering outside the door. He knew the lil guy was a bit potty-shy as he stripped his Pull-Up off him, but he also knew the woman was just doing her job. Besides, he apparently had to go so bad that even a stranger waiting outside the door didn’t affect him any more than having a band mate kneeling to hold him steady did. Course, his potty break took a lil longer than Rikki was expecting since his body decided he needed to do _more_ than piss this Time, but he didn’t mind. He’d give up all the Time in the World that was necessary till he recovered, especially since this’d happened to him under his watch.


	13. Thirteen

By the Time Richie was deemed well enough for discharge four Days later–on Týr’s Day Morn–he was still sleeping quite a bit. Even compared to his norm as a toddler, he seemed to sleep almost twenty-four/seven, and it’d honestly started to worry the blonde posing as his daddy. The pediatrician who’d been put in charge of his care after he’d been brought up from the ER’d laughed and assured him that it was actually perfectly normal behavior. Considering the body did the majority of its Healing and growing during sleep, his lil body was demanding even more rest than normal to put toward Healing that concussion.

Upon arriving back at the drummer’s house, Rikki wasn’t surprised to find that Mishy’d stayed once she’d brought the other boys back. After all, the pint-sized bassist still needed supervision, and while she coulda taken him to their front man, it made more senseta keep him in his home. Not to mention it allowed her to stay past when his weekend with his son was up, which gave them more Time to spend together.

Holding his finger up to his lips when said boys ran up to greet them when they got home, he mimed laying his head on his hand like it was a pillow. Nodding, Bobby looked at his son and mimed laying his head down to sleep, somehow managing to bite back a giggle as he feigned a soft snore. The third lil boy giggled softly as he nodded and looked back up, now getting that they were trying to tell him that the third toddler was still asleep from the ride home.

“Him’s been seepin’ a _loooot,”_ he told them, settling Richie on the couch so he could finish his nap. “But teh doctor says dat’s a good thing.”

Zach pouted and whimpered as he looked up at his would-be uncle.

“Teh doctors says dat seepin’ a lot after whacking chu noggin likey Richie did helps it Heal faster,” Rikki explained with a reassuring smile.

_“Ohhhh.”_ The youngest toddler nodded again as his frown quickly–and quite literally–turned upside-down.

“So, if teh doctor’s not worried enough to keep him in teh hop-sickle anymore and says him seepin’ a lot’s normal, I’m willing to believe her,” the drummer concluded, catching sight of the boy’s mother joining them outta the corner of his eye.

“So, he’s gonna be all right?” Mishy asked softly, unable to help a yawn.

“Eh, it’ll take Time,” he chuckled, tucking a throw blanket around him. “I’m just putting him here on the couch for now so he won’t try to come downstairs on his own and wind up hurting himself worse.”

“At least he’s on the road to recovery,” the young woman said. “I’m just glad these other two goobers’re all right since they weren’t in that massive toddler bed when I got up just now.”

“They were actually playing the greeting crew,” Rikki snickered. “They’re prolly ready for food, though, unless Bobby managed to get into my Pop-Tarts for them.”

The pint-sized bassist giggled mischievously as he licked his chops, and they weren’t sure if that was supposed to mean that he _had,_ or that he wanted one now.

“Bobby, ya Blessed chocoholic!” he laughed. “Do I need to take ya to the Hershey factory and just drop ya in a vat of molten Chocolate so you’ll leave _my_ goodies alone?”

Bobby seemed all too happy with that idea, even though he knew he’d quite literally drown in Chocolate–whether he was a toddler or an adult–as he flopped back in the arm chair he’d claimed. His ex-wife snorted into her hand as she bit back laughter that no doubt woulda been loud enough to wake the sleeping toddler sprawled out on the couch. Even their son was giggling up a Storm where he’d flopped over to face-plant in his daddy’s lap, most likely merely at said daddy’s expression.

Shaking his head, the drummer went to push himself up from his kneeling position so he could go throw together lunch for at least himself. Getting Richie’s discharge paperwork together’d taken so long, for some damned reason, that breakfast’d long since worn off for him. Course, hospital food was never his choice fare, so he’d really only been picking at whatever bland shit he could get from the cafeteria.

A soft moan made him pause mid-rise, the pint-sized guitarist turning his head slightly as if he were about to wake up. Moving his hand to shield his eyes for him since he’d maintained quite the headache for the past few Days, he wasn’t surprised when those lil eyes slowly peeled open. Rikki offered up a gentle smile, chuckling as he was fairly quick to Return it with a sleepy one of his own before letting out a big yawn. He was just glad that the lil guy still recognized him after such a conk to the noggin, ’cuz that meant he oughta still recognize the other toddlers and even Bret, too.

“Hey there, lil dude,” the drummer said softly. “Chu enjoy chu nap-nap?”

_“Mmm hmm,”_ Richie hummed as he nodded. “Noggin still hurts.”

“I might still have some Children’s Tylenol from when Bobby and Zach were sick last Summer,” he told him. “I gotta go look before I can even try to figure out if it’s gone bad yet or not.”

“Where’d we keep it again?” Mishy asked. “I can do that while you’re getting a head start on lunch.”

“Medicine cabinet in my bathroom,” Rikki answered. “It was the only place we could think of that we doubted those two clowns wouldn’t try getting into it.”

“Gimme a couple minutes, then,” she told him. “It ought not’ve gone bad yet, if ya screwed the lid back on tight enough.”

“It might actually take my grip and muscle to get it open again, I put it on there so tight,” the drummer chuckled as she headed upstairs.

During their short conversation, father and son’d crawled down outta the arm chair they’d appropriated, Bobby toddling over to the couch.

“’ichie,” he said, gently grabbing his would-be lover’s hand.

“’obby,” the pint-sized guitarist answered, Returning the gentle squeeze he gave that appendage.

“Good, I was wondering if you’d still recognize him after that conk to the noggin,” Rikki said, nodding his approval.

Even as the pint-sized bassist leaned forward to gently kiss his forehead, Zach whimpered softly as he acted like he didn’t quite wanna approach him.

“No mad, ’ach,” Richie sighed. “Chu _nuuuu_ mean to.”

The lil guy seemed to sag in relief, finally joining them once his daddy beckoned to him.

“Jus’ seepy, and noggin hurts,” he told him. “Be fine soon.”

The drummer chuckled again when Bobby looked up at him as if wanting to know exactly what they’d been told at the hospital. He was quick to repeat what the doctor’d told him about being so tired at first after such a nasty concussion being perfectly normal. Granted, he wasn’t quite sure how much he believed that, but he figured even a pediatrician oughta know what they were talking about. Since there’d been a neurologist to come look him and his scan results both over who said the same thing, he was willing to buy it for now.

He nodded as he squeezed the pint-sized guitarist’s hand again, apparently not daring to so much as nuzzle him, if he didn’t have to. No doubt if his head was still killing him, that’d either make the throbbing worse, or that’d happen when he tried to move too fast to get away from the gentle action. Either way, he didn’t wanna cause the lil guy additional pain, rather than being part of what made it fade away quicker.

Richie managed to roll onto his side and pout up at his would-be lover, having been in an _über_ -cuddly mood for the past few Days. He didn’t seem to sleep anywhere near as well unless he’d been snuggled against the blonde, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe he’d just gotten so used to snuggling up to Bobby at Night that he now couldn’t sleep without some kinda physical contact. Then again, maybe it was just part of being a toddler, ’cuz he’d noticed that he seemed to like cuddling a lot more ever since he’d woken up like that than when he was still a grown man. If he were honest with himself, though, he didn’t really care where that desire’s roots lay–he was just more of a mind that it stuck around once he was back to normal.

The pint-sized bassist was quick to crawl up onto the couch with him once he managed to sit up a lil bit, gladly letting him snuggle against his chest. Zach waited till they were settled before he crawled up on his other side, sighing happily as he snuggled against him from that angle. Rikki couldn’t help a soft laugh at the sight of his friend being pinned down so, ’cuz it was absolutely adorable to him. Still, he left the boysta snuggle in Peace as he headed off to get started on their lunch, Mishy finally Returning with not only that Children’s Tylenol, but Children’s Advil to alternate with it, as well.

“Siren, ya lovable, bewitching lil bitch,” the drummer chuckled as he opened up his fridge moments later.

Knowing he wasn’t exactly a great chef and that it’d prolly be hard to find foods that’d stay down, rather than coming right back up from his head killing him, the young Witch’d apparently saw fit to stock him up with foods she was pretty sure Richie’d actually eat. Since the lil guy seemed to favor soups more than anything, he decided to stick with the tried and true, even if some kinda Chicken soup was better for a cold versus a concussion. At least this homemade blend only needed to be heated up and have its pasta added, considering she’d left them separated so said pasta wouldn’t wind up mushy while it waited.

The pint-sized guitarist started to perk up a bit more when he started catching the scent of Chicken wafting into the living room. Bobby couldn’t help a curious sniff of his own, and since he didn’t hear anything frying or the oven door open, he was assuming they were getting Chicken noodle soup. Once he started catching notes of the various herbs and spices he knew the young Witch used, he couldn’t help a soft, excited squeal.

Laughing softly as he brought their bowlsta the living room a few minutes later, Rikki grinned as all three boys perked up while Mishy shot him a curious look. All he did was mime zipping his lips as he set the bowls down, then turned to head back into the kitchen for something else. His second trip to the living room revealed colorful salads he hoped only Zach refused, considering he knew even the pint-sized bassist wasn’t fond of what he called _Rabbit food_.

“Gotta love when Siren decidesta work her magick for us,” he chuckled, settling with his own bowl and plate. “’Cuz I swear, no one can get Bobby to eat his veggies–even as an adult–the way she can.”

Bobby snorted as he managed to scoot down off the couch without pulling his would-be lover with him.

“Course, that’s ’cuz she hides a lotta veggies in stuff ya actually like,” the drummer snickered.

“I think I’ma have to talk to her,” Mishy giggled. “Maybe that’ll make getting _Zach_ to eat his veggies less of a dinner table War zone.”

“I think ya can prolly get her to share her Secrets with that pretty easily,” Rikki said. “She’s hidden all kindsa stuff in some of the foods she’s fed to Bobby, and he hasn’t even realized it. Then again, she actually got him to eat Carrots and Celery willingly.”

_“Le gasp_ –he ate _Rabbit food_ without having to fight him first!” She mocked fainting as she flopped over into the blonde’s lap dramatically.

Said pint-sized bassist stuck his tongue out at her as she sat back up, revealing that it was covered in squished Carrot at that very moment.

“Bobby, quit playing with it and eat it,” the drummer scolded him. “If I wanna see squished Carrot, I’ll squish it in my spoon.”

Bobby giggled as he pulled his tongue back into his mouth and swallowed the bite he’d taken.

Seeing him actually dive into his salad head-first, even though it was so chock-full of greens he’d normally turn his nose up at it was a surpriseta even the pint-sized guitarist. Never once in the few months since they’d met and he’d become a band had he seen his fellow brunette willingly go near veggies. But seeing him _not_ simply pick out the fruit and leave the rest to be thrown away actually made him more willing to try it, too.

Richie wasn’t exactly fond of the Spinach he quickly found out was in it, but his eyes still widened as he chewed that lone bite. He didn’t know how or why–maybe it was literal magick–but the salad actually tasted just as good as the soup he’d been served. In fact, it wasn’t long before he’d packed away every last bite and was liking his chops much like a satisfied Cat as he stretched out on the couch. The lil guy seemed more than content now, despite what he’d been through the past few Days, and that was definitely a good thing, as far as the adults were concerned.

After they’d all finished lunch, the pint-sized bassist managed to crawl onto the couch with a yawn, but not really disturbing his would-be lover. He was kinda bored now since Zach was content to just watch any cartoon videos his mother could find for him, and he hadn’t really been sleeping well. Considering his Melodic counterpart’d been hurt and he’d been worried about him, he wasn’t surprised by that in the last. Maybe now that he’d been discharged and sent home, they’d both be able to sleep pretty well, on the couch or in their bed.


	14. Fourteen

For the next week, Bobby tried to be as helpful as he could, rather than being a holy terror that constantly misbehaved due to a lack of attention. Richie was doing better by leaps and bounds every Day, but he still had a waysta go in making a full recovery from his concussion. To that End, he tried to do whatever he could to help the lil guy, if only so their drummer’d be able to have a lil more of a break. Granted, he wasn’t able to do much beyond getting him juice boxes and snacks when he needed them, or help him with changing his Pull-Up, if he didn’t quite make it to his potty chair, but he considered it more than enough.

Rikki couldn’t help a smile every Time he found the pair sprawled out on the couch, or cuddled up in their bed, if it was first thing in the Morn. Both were usually asleep when he found them like that, but there’d been a few Times that he’d find the pint-sized bassist just quietly watching TV while the other toddler pinned him down. It was a sight too adorable _not_ to at least smile at, even if he didn’t coo at them so he wouldn’t disturb the lil guy when he was actually getting some sleep.

But what neither he, nor the pint-sized guitarist didn’t realize was that during this Time, Bobby’s feelings for the lil guy were starting to shift even more. They’d already started to shift a bit after their mutual admission of being attracted to one another, but he’d fought that shift like a maddened Dragon. He hadn’t wanted to let himself open up to anyone else like that, considering how his marriage’d Ended–and _that_ particular Emotional shift hadn’t been a good one. There was a part of him that–much like Richie–didn’t exactly wanna take a chance with putting that kinda Trust and Faith in another person. On the other hand, there was an even bigger part of him that’d realized that every moment spent with him might be his last for one reason or another.

Without even truly realizing it till he’d been discharged and brought back home, the pint-sized bassist’d actually started to fall in Love with his Melodic counterpart. There was no denying it now, as they lay on the couch together a week after that discharge, a throw blanket tucked around both of them. And he wasn’t about to hide it any longer, even if the younger toddler didn’t actually hear him from being deep asleep.

“Luz chu, ’ichie,” Bobby murmured, shifting enough to kiss his head. “Luz chu more’n me can ever say.”

Said pint-sized guitarist was a lil startled to hear those soft words, but he didn’t even gasp in response as he simply laid there. He didn’t wanna give away that he was actually awake, ’cuz he wasn’t sure if he’d actually been meant to hear that, or if it was more reflexive than it wasn’t. Maybe his rhythmic counterpart’d just said it ’cuz that’s just what he was used to doing when somebody he was even remotely close with wasn’t feeling good. Course, that made him wonder even more since he’d sworn he wasn’t gonna toy with him or his Emotions like that–which’d mean he’d just broken his promise on that, in a way.

Richie couldn’t stand the not knowing more, so he finally squirmed enough to look up at him, somehow not surprised to see his eyes closed. He wasn’t sure if he’d dozed off till he squirmed again, the pint-sized bassist opening his eyes and looking down at him as if he’d never been asleep. Maybe that meant he’d just closed his eyesta get himself together, if he was _really_ feeling half as Emotional as those words’d sounded.

“Chu…luz meh?” he asked, even as he reached up to rub one of his own eyes.

_“Mmm hmm.”_ Bobby nodded as he hummed, gently kissing his head again. “Chu _nuuuu_ hasta say it, if chu _nuuuu_ luz meh, too.”

The pint-sized guitarist pushed himself up slightly, giggling when he grimaced from him pushing down on his chest a bit too much.

He simply rolled his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position once his Melodic counterpart was settled on his rump, then moved to slide off the couch.

“Wha–” Richie started to ask, only to get cut off when he held up a finger.

Moving to stand in front of the coffee table, the pint-sized bassist started rearranging the _Scrabble_ tiles that’d been left out earlier that afternoon. _This past week’s made me realize that I’ve been fighting my feelings for nothing_ – _they’re still gonna be there, no matter what I do, so I might as well admit it,_ he spelled out.

_“Ohhhh.”_ He nodded, which prompted him to continue.

_I didn’t particularly care if ya actually heard that or not, ’cuz it won’t be the only Time I say it,_ Bobby spelled out, looking up with a giggle.

Even the pint-sized guitarist couldn’t help a giggle as he slid down, that giggle dying away as he started rearranging the tiles for himself. _I don’t care how many Times ya say it_ – _I care about whether ya_ mean it _or not when ya do_.

That made him adopt a look that was equal parts serious and loving, the same kinda look he’d given Mishy when she’d come to him and said that she’d just found out she was pregnant. She’d been terrified that he was gonna get pissed about such a discovery, but he’d actually had quite the opposite reaction. Yeah, he’d been a bit upset about the Timing–Poison was so busy and he didn’t feel he was ready to be a dad yet–but that didn’t mean he never wanted kids at all.

Now the look he pinned on Richie was much the same, but for vastly different reasons, as he moved close enough to hug him. There were things about him that the pint-sized bassist loved far more than he’d ever loved his ex-wife, which was one of the things he’d come to realize over the last week. It was from there that the loving part of his expression stemmed, and he was trying to convey that non-verbally.

However, the serious part of his expression was from Bobby meaning what he’d said about never having the Intention to toy with him. There was no way he was gonna lead him on, especially after the last couple weeks they’d been through–he’d rather be real and straight with him about how he felt. He hoped he was able to convey that through his expression, and if not that, then through his eyes since he’d always been told they gave away his true Emotions, even when he didn’t want them to. It seemed that he was able to convey those things well enough, though, ’cuz the pint-sized guitarist smiled at him, those blue eyes he’d grown to love slowly lighting up.

Reaching out and gently cupping his cheek, he gently stroked his thumb over where he knew he’d normally see his cheekbone. A soft sigh drifted from Richie’s lips as he tilted his head into the gentle touch, and he couldn’t help the urge to glance down at them. That made him take a step closer so he wouldn’t pull him off-balance and make him fall, which put them close enough for him to lean forward and nuzzle him. He couldn’t help a smile at the soft Sound he made, which was when he took a deep breath and decided to take his chances with actually kissing him.

* * *

Later that Night, Bobby was beyond ecstatic that his Melodic counterpart hadn’t rejected what lil bit of Intimacy he’d gone after that afternoon. Sure, the lil guy’d been surprised at first and it’d taken a couple moments for him to really react, but he’d been pretty quick to Return that kiss. But Return that kiss, he most certainly had, and the only thing that’d kept them from going much further was Rikki coming downstairs from his own afternoon nap.

Now that they’d been put to bed for the Night, he couldn’t help where his Thoughts were wandering to–and they were decidedly dirty Thoughts. Richie seemed to be thinking much the same things, if his uncharacteristic squirming was anything to judge by at the moment. He couldn’t seem to stay still to save his Life, whereas that was normally his rhythmic counterpart’s department once they were abed.

“’ichie?” the pint-sized bassist asked, squirming to face him better.

He simply whimpered as that set him to squirming once again, but one telltale movement gave away what was wrong.

_“Ahhhh.”_ Bobby couldn’t help a giggle as he sat up a lil more.

_“Nuuuu_ feels good,” the pint-sized guitarist whimpered.

“Den we fix,” he giggled, gently running his hand down his side.

_“Nuuuu,”_ Richie whined as he squirmed again. _“Nuuuu_ work after dis long.”

The pint-sized bassist was quick to realize that trying to Return the favor he’d been paid a couple weeks ago wasn’t gonna be enough for him.

“Needs _moar,”_ he told him, veritably begging.

Nodding, Bobby rolled over to reach the lamp on his nightstand, giving him a moment to shield his eyes before he actually turned it on. After letting his own eyes adjust to the flare of Light it produced, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and rose with a giggle. He’d plenty of Secrets that he hid from those around him, and it was one of those Secrets that was gonna come in handy one way or another now.

The pint-sized guitarist couldn’t help another whimper as he sat up and watched him toddle into the bathroom, his crotch throbbing unbearably. He wondered just what on Earth his rhythmic counterpart was after as he pulled open the bottom drawer of the vanity, his eyes widening at the _Ah, ha!_ he let out moments later. What he held in his hand as he Returned to the bathroom was a bit of a surprise, though, and that made his eyes widen as he registered what it was. Course, the devious grin on his face as he climbed back onto their massive toddler bed was part of what made his eyes widen, too.

Giggling, the pint-sized bassist made sure not to drop the bottle of lube he’d grabbed outta his bathroom vanity. Nobody realized he’d been experimenting with his tastes ever since last Summer, if only ’cuz he’d been embarrassed by having even the slightest Curiosity about some things. But even if Richie’d absolutely no interest in bottoming tonight, the lube’d come in handy since it wasn’t like a guy Created his own Natural lube like a woman did.

“Ish ups to _chu,”_ he told him. _“Nuuuu_ hasta, if chu _nuuuu_ wantsta.”

_“Nuuuu_ bottom,” the pint-sized guitarist said vehemently. He’d absolutely no interest in letting another man Top him like that, and he honestly wasn’t even too sure about Topping another man like that, his physical state be damned.

“Dat’s fine,” Bobby agreed. “Chu _nuuuu_ hasta bottom, if chu _nuuuu_ wantsta.”

He couldn’t help when his jaw dropped in surprise, ’cuz he expected to be told they’d just hit a stalemate.

“Been ’sperimenting,” the pint-sized bassist giggled. “Might be lil painful for meh, might _nuuuu_ be–but teh lube help wiff dat.”

Richie looked a bit uncertain as he bit his lip, but still squirmed when he throbbed in his Pull-Up again. “Wanna, but…”

_“Nuuuu_ wantsta hurts meh?” he asked. “Or _nuuuu_ been wiff a guy afore?”

_“Nuuuu_ been wiff a guy afore,” the pint-sized guitarist answered, unable to help his face turning pink.

Bobby couldn’t help laughing softly as he reached back to set that lil bottle on his nightstand, his free hand reaching out to his face. The other toddler didn’t wanna look up at him at first, but he finally managed to convince him to look up by gently pushing up on his face. He wasn’t laughing at him in the sense of making fun of him, but rather ’cuz he was amused by being able to relate to his uncertainty.

Richie’s eyes widened again when his rhythmic counterpart admitted that he’d never been with another guy before, either. Based on some of the stories told by all the members of Poison, he’d almost thought that maybe he’d done such a thing before and just hadn’t told his band mates. After all, it wasn’t the kinda thing he’d tell his own band mates, if they weren’t the one he was sleeping with, so he didn’t think this lil guy was gonna be any different. However, he was clearly wrong about him doing such a thing and just not telling, which made him even more uncertain than before.

Sensing the pint-sized guitarist’s uncertainty, he gently pulled him closer so he could wrap his arms around him in a loose hug. He’d be lying, if he said he wasn’t feeling nervous about trying such a thing himself, but he knew that one of them’d to show a lil Confidence right now. Being so much younger, he knew his Melodic counterpart wasn’t gonna be the one to do that, so he took on that role, himself.

Feeling lips against his own in a gentle kiss made said younger toddler gasp at first, but he was quick to melt into his embrace and Return the kiss. Bobby couldn’t help a soft hum as he suckled that full bottom lip, trying to keep the kiss from getting _too_ sloppy since he was sure he wouldn’t like that. He also couldn’t help letting his hands roam, mostly just rubbing his back reassuringly, but also letting them map out his torso, too. It didn’t take long for him to have Richie squirming almost irritably, a giggle drifting from his own lips as he broke the kiss as gently as he could. The small strand of spit that still connected them was quickly broken by reaching up to wipe it away, but the aroused look in his eyes wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Told chu, ish ups to chu,” the pint-sized bassist giggled.

“Chu sure?” he asked, still sounding uncertain, even though he was obviously pretty desperate.

_“Nuuuu_ keeps quiet when sum-fin’ hurts meh,” Bobby said, shrugging. “Me say, if me needs a minute.”

“If chu’s sure,” the pint-sized guitarist told him, finally nodding.

Returning the nod, he reached over to grab the previously-discarded bottle of lube. _“Nuuuu_ wiffout dis, though– _nuuuu_ gets wet on mah own, silleh.”

Richie couldn’t help a giggle of his own as he took the bottle. “Me knows chu don’t.”

“And gosta be stretched a lil bit, too,” the pint-sized bassist said. “Hurts too much, if me _nuuuu_ stretch mahself first.”

Nodding again as he settled so that he was comfy on his back, he managed to pop the top of the bottle open and dump a small amount about halfway up his fingers. He’d to be extremely careful to avoid dumping the sticky liquid onto their bed, considering they’d need Rikki’s help to chance their sheets–and neither of them wanted to wake him in the middle of the Night for that.

Bobby couldn’t help a gasp as that sticky liquid soon came into contact with him, its cooler temperature and the fingers it’d now been spread on taking him slightly by surprise. He’d known the touch was coming moments earlier just from seeing his Melodic counterpart pop the lid on the bottle. But actually feeling the contrast in the warmth of those fingers and the chill of that lube combined with his own sensitivity was what’d made him gasp. That was also the reason he’d clenched certain muscles at first, the gentle rubbing of those fingers soon coaxing him into relaxing into the mattress.

Richie studied his expression carefully as he Circled his fingers around his entrance, trying not to hurt him as he gently prepped him. He wanted to make this experience just as memorable for his rhythmic counterpart as it was bound to be for himself, and for all the right reasons. There was no way he was letting him remember this ’cuz it’d been too painful for him, if he could help it in the slightest. If that meant taking his Time, no matter what his own arousal screamed at him, then he was more than willing to do it.

After a few minutes, the pint-sized guitarist dared to finally attempt pushing a single finger into him, pausing when he seemed to try bucking his hand away. He wasn’t sure if he’d just hurt him by accident, or if he’d just surprised him by not giving him any warning before his attempt. Only moments later, he was reassured when the pint-sized bassist pushed down against his hand with a soft whine and an expression that screamed, _What’re ya waiting for? Gimme more!_ That made him giggle as he nodded at him, gently thrusting that finger for a couple minutes before trying to add a second one–which seemed to be very much to the older toddler’s liking, judging by his moan.

_“Ohhhh,”_ Bobby moaned, unable to keep still at this point to save his Life.

“Chu otays?” his Melodic counterpart asked.

_“U-Uh h-huh,”_ he managed as he nodded. He wasn’t about to tell him that his fingernails needed a trim, if they were gonna do this again, ’cuz he didn’t wanna ruin the moment.

Returning the nod, Richie continued to thrust his fingers, then started to attempt scissoring them.

_“Ahhhh,”_ the pint-sized bassist whimpered, squirming even more. A sharp gasp rent the Air as those scissoring fingers hit a spot deep inside him that damn near sent him through the ceiling.

“Chu hurted!” he whimpered, trying to pull his hand back, only to have him grab his wrist and hold his arm still.

_“Nuuuu_ hurted,” Bobby panted as he gripped his wrist. “Felt _gooood!”_

“Weally?” the pint-sized guitarist asked, sounding uncertain.

Nodding, he bucked his hipsta make his fingers hit that spot again, unable to help a gasp–or having his cock throb–when they did.

_“Ohhhh.”_ Richie couldn’t help a giggle as he nodded, managing to crook his fingers into that spot over and over again.

The pint-sized bassist kept up his gasping, whining, and bucking as he veritably tormented him by continuously hitting that spot. He soon reached the point of no Return, but wasn’t able to warn him before he erupted with a cry he barely muffled under his pillow. His eyes rolled back in his head as he bucked wildly, coating himself in his own cum before he finally went limp against the mattress. Only then did he start to even try catching his breath, whimpers drifting out from under the pillow still over his face.

After giving him a few moments, the pint-sized guitarist gently removed the pillow and leaned down to kiss him in an attempt to bring him back from the brink. Bobby mewled into the kiss, which had its Intended effect on him–but also served to arouse him all over again ’cuz of how those lips moved against his own. In fact, he reached up to wrap his arms around his Melodic counterpart’s neck to keep him from moving away too soon.

Richie couldn’t help letting out as much of a growl as he could, shifting his weight till he was kneeling between his still-spread legs. Even if he hadn’t been showing the physical proof, he couldn’t have denied being aroused by the display before him. That woulda been true, even if he hadn’t been _before_ he’d gone to get that bottle of lube, let alone let him start prepping him. And he’d certainly be lying now, if he’d try to say that he didn’t want more–or that he wasn’t elated when he begged him for just that.


	15. Fifteen

It seemed to Bobby that the next couple weeks passed by at the pace of molasses in Wintertime, and before he knew it, what Kelcey called _Beltane_ was the next Day. By that Time, he was ready to scream in frustration and slam his head into a wall, but he knew better than to give in to such an urge. He’d just earn himself a stint in a psychiatric ward once he was back to normal since his entire band would wind up in one, if somebody turned him in right now. That didn’t mean he was any less frustrated–and almost _didn’t_ wanna share a bed with his Melodic counterpart anymore–than he’d been before.

Said pint-sized guitarist seemed beyond incredibly stubborn about opening up to him about much of anything, and he definitely hadn’t said _I love you_ in Return. Whether that was verbally to the best of his current abilities or through the _Scrabble_ tiles didn’t really matter to him right now. All he wanted was for him to say–and _mean_ –those three words as much as he meant them when he said them to him.

But it wasn’t that Richie didn’t _wanna_ say them in Return–he’d just never been much of an Emotional guy, so it was harder for him to say them. Seeing how it was upsetting the pint-sized bassist, though, made him decide to talk to the young Witch privately the next Time she and Bret came over. Gods only knew that she’d been even more of an instrumental help in admitting his attraction to the other brunette in the first place–he didn’t see why she wouldn’t be now.

_“Ahhhh,”_ he whined, tugging on the skirt she was wearing that very afternoon.

“What’s up, lil man?” Kelcey asked, managing to pick him up, despite being six months pregnant now.

“Ya shouldn’t be picking him up, hon,” the front man gently admonished her.

“Judging by his Energy, he wantsta talk to me alone,” she shot back just as gently.

Richie couldn’t help a whimper as he nodded, all eyes now on him.

“Let’s go out back to the lil patio,” the young Witch said. “That way we won’t tie up your room, just in case Bobby needs something.”

He nodded again as he let her carry him out back, her gait a bit uneven due to the waddling caused by her pregnancy.

“So, what’s up?” Kelcey asked once they’d settled at the round table Mishy’d once done her very first Tarot reading at and she’d dumped out the _Scrabble_ tiles for him.

_I wanted to talk to ya and hopefully get some advice,_ the pint-sized guitarist spelled out.

“I dunno that I’ll be able to give ya any advice, but I guess that depends on what’s going on,” she warned him, gesturing for him to continue.

Nodding, Richie started spelling out what he wanted to say to her, pausing between each sentence so she could read each one. Besides, he’d only so many tiles of each letter at his disposal, so if he wanted most words spelled right, he’d to pause between each one, anywhore. Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to lay out the problem at hand for her, and once he’d done so, he crawled onto the couch to sit next to her while awaiting her response.

After he’d laid out his current issue, the young Witch mulled it over, careful to keep her expression schooled into a practiced blankness. Her opinion was that he was being absolutely ridiculous, but she didn’t wanna make him feel bad about it when he already no doubt felt bad enough. Course, she couldn’t really tease him too much since she was more or less the exact same way–she just had her solution already.

“I see,” Kelcey mused, a smirk teasing the corner of her mouth.

The pint-sized guitarist frowned when he saw her mouth twitch, wondering just what she thought was so funny about all this.

“You’ve never thought about saying it in another language, have ya?” she snickered.

Now his brows furrowed as Richie gave her a confused frown.

“I get where you’re coming from, ’cuz I’m the same way–just for a totally different reason, I’ll bet,” the young Witch chuckled. “Then again, it might be for the _same_ reason.”

He couldn’t help looking surprised now, his lil mouth dropping open in a pink _O_.

“I’ve had so many relationships implode on me after I said those three words in English, it ain’t even funny,” Kelcey told him. “So now, since I know how to say it in a couple different languages, I say it in French or Italian, usually Italian.”

_“Ohhhh.”_ The pint-sized guitarist nodded, then frowned once again as he scooted off the couch. _I dunno_ how _to say it in anything but English, though,_ he spelled out.

_“Je t’aime_ in French, and _ti amo_ in Italian,” the young Witch chuckled. “Actually, it’s _te amo_ in Spanish, too–pronounced the same, spelled a letter differently when it’s written out.”

_Well, that’s fuckin’ easy to remember!_ Richie couldn’t help a giggle as she read that particular response.

“Course, ya can get even fancier with it, too,” she told him. “All ya gotta do’s add a couple wordsta _ti amo,_ and it turns into a longer sentence.”

The pint-sized guitarist looked confused, scattering the _Scrabble_ tiles when he heard someone walk up behind him.

“She means _ti amo molto, bella Signora mia_ – _così tanto,”_ he heard Bret chuckle. “Or something along those lines.”

Richie’s face felt like it was on Fire as he turned to glance over his shoulder at him.

“Too easy to figure out whatcha were talking about, based on what I heard _her_ saying and how well I know her, kid,” the front man laughed. “She’s so terrified of making things between us go to shit just by saying _I love you_ to me, it’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“Ya _know_ how many Times I said that to someone, only to realize they were just using me for pussy!” Kelcey shot back, even as she grinned.

“And how many Times do I’ve to say that if I didn’t wantcha, I’d have made that pretty clear right after finding out about Marina, _not_ stuck around long enough to make another _Mini-Me?”_ he asked with a grin of his own.

The pint-sized guitarist couldn’t help but join their laughter, but he was amazed by the adoring looks they gave one another. It actually reminded him of the adoring look that _Bobby_ gave him, which he just couldn’t seem to Return to save his Life. A soft sigh drifted from his lips at that Thought, which made Bret hook a finger under his chin and gently force his head up so one pair of blue eyes bore into another. He told him that he could understand it being hard to express one’s Emotions sometimes–he hadn’t written _Every Rose_ for nothing any more than the toddler’d written _Fire and Ice_ for nothing, after all.

But the young Witch’d a point in saying that sometimes, it was easier to say it in another language, ’cuz it just felt more comfortable and _right_. In fact, he actually had an easier Time expressing his Emotions and simply talking dirty to her in Italian as compared to English, and Italian was far from being either of their first languages, if he were honest.

Richie hummed thoughtfully as he reached out to rearrange the _Scrabble_ tiles again, wanting to know what he’d used as an example when he’d startled him. He didn’t think it’d be quite the right fit for anything he could say to the pint-sized bassist, but maybe it’d be pretty close. Besides, if there was something that needed to be amended to make it a better fit, no doubt Kelcey’d be able to give him the translation he needed. He just hoped he could remember any such translation later since, as he’d said, he didn’t speak any other languages.

_“Ti amo molto, bella Signora mia_ – _così tanto_ means _I love you very much, my beautiful Lady_ – _so much,”_ she chuckled. “Obviously, you’re not gonna wanna use _bella Signora mia_ yourself, but there’s other things that can be plugged into that hole, so to speak.”

“Like when _she_ plugs _musicista dagli occhi azzurri mio_ into that spot for me,” the front man told him. “’Cuz it literally means _my blue-eyed musician,_ and I’m definitely both those things–a blue-eyed musician and hers, I mean.”

Richie’s mouth dropped open again, but he was quick to close it and nod.

“Personally, I like pulling things from my partner’s physical features and/or personality,” the young Witch revealed. “It usually makes whatever I say more meaningful that way.”

_Then what on Earth could I plug into that spot for Bobby?_ he spelled out, deciding he might as well just give up _who_ he was having even the slightest problem with.

Bret’s eyes widened as he read that, his girlfriend giggling across the table from him.

“Well, it depends on how ya think of him,” Kelcey answered. “Ya could base it off his eye Color like I did with Bret, some other physical feature, or even a personality trait you’ve noticed in him.”

The pint-sized guitarist hummed thoughtfully before rearranging the Wooden tiles again. _He’s my brown-eyed Fox,_ he spelled out.

“Both ’cuz he’s a foxy bastard _and_ ’cuz he’s a cunning lil devil, right?” she laughed.

_“Uh, huh!”_ Richie nodded emphatically, even as his shorter blonde band mate groaned.

“I didn’t _need_ to know whatcha thought of _any_ of us like that,” the front man chuckled.

_Oh, put a sock in it, or I’ll tell ya what we’ve been up to all week,_ he spelled out, grinning deviously as he read.

“Fuck, no!” Bret laughed. “Don’t want _or_ need details, kid!”

Even the young Witch couldn’t help a few moments of laughter before managing to get their conversation back on track. Once they’d Calmed down enough to hear each other, she said that the Italian translation for _my brown-eyed Fox_ was _Volpe dagli occhi marroni mio_. That meant that the whole phrase was supposed to be _ti amo molto, Volpe dagli occhi marroni mio_ – _così tanto,_ if he Intended to use practically the same thing she and the front man used with each other.

Richie’s brow furrowed thoughtfully before he got her to repeat it a bit slower for him, ’cuz he hadn’t quite caught what she’d said. After letting it bounce around his brain for a few moments, he tried actually saying it for himself, and he was surprised by how easily he was able to wrap his tongue around it. He’d thought he’d have a lot more trouble with it, considering he didn’t speak Italian, but it just rolled right off his tongue.

Once he’d managed to get that part down, Kelcey said that the Beginning of that phrase could be amended slightly for him to Return the sentiment, if Bobby said _I love you_ first. He cocked his head at her curiously, wondering how hard or easy that one’d be for him to remember later on down the road. Grinning, she said that all he’d to do was put _anch’io_ in front of _ti amo,_ which made the whole phrase translate to _I love you very much, too, my brown-eyed Fox_. It was amazing to him how such a slight Change could take him from being the one to say it first to the one who Returned the sentiment in nothing flat.

_I think I’ll be able to remember that later,_ Richie spelled out. _It’s definitely a mouthful, though_.

“I felt the same way when she first started using Italian with me,” the front man chuckled. “Now, imagine when she getsta talking dirty on top of it.”

_I don’t even wanna know!_ he spelled out, unable to help giggling madly as he did.

“Let’s just say it usually involves a few words that translate to slang terms for genitalia,” Kelcey laughed. “Pussy, cunt, cock–and that’s just the tip of the Iceberg.”

_Now I’m curious as to how ya learned all this,_ the pint-sized guitarist spelled out with a curious look.

“My mother once worked in Duke University’s _Department of Religion,”_ she explained. “She was around people from various parts of the World a lot, and they usually taught her random shit. Some of it was bits and pieces of other languages–and she picked up on Italian pretty quick ’cuz she took Latin in high school, by the way–or about different cultures the Planet over that she _didn’t_ already study ’cuz of her chosen Pantheon.”

_What’s a Pantheon?_ Richie looked confused now.

“Generally considered a family of Deities, like how Zeus and Hera belong to the Greek Pantheon, or Jupiter and Juno to the Roman one,” the young Witch answered.

_“Ohhhh.”_ He nodded as she made to continue.

“But a lotta that rubbed off on me, and getting into various notes she _thought_ she’d hidden pretty well taught me more than she realized,” Kelcey said. “So now, I can tell Bret to shut up and gimme his cock right in front of Marina without her even knowing what I’m saying.”

The pint-sized guitarist burst into hysterical giggles, especially considering how Bret grinned deviously, at the Thought of being able to do such a thing. He might have to get her to teach him some of what she knew so he could translate it for his rhythmic counterpart, that way they could do the same thing with Zach. At least then, the lil boy ought not know what they were saying to each other any more than the lil girl seemed to with her own parents. Besides, that might make the other toddler a lil more willing to do such things, if he knew he was safe from having his son understand them.

Now that he’d gotten a likely solution to the problem he’d been having lately, Richie decided he was ready to head in for lunch. After all, they’d just woken up from a nap and Rikki was supposed to be cooking while he and the young Witch were outside talking. If he got much hungrier than he already was, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t start pitching a bitch-fit till he was fed.

On their way back into the house, he kept repeating the phrases he’d been taught in his head, trying to commit them to memory as quickly as possible. He didn’t want an opportunity to use either of them to come up and wind up totally spacing on the translations ’cuz he hadn’t practiced them somehow. They didn’t sound quite right in his head as compared to coming outta his mouth, but that was all right–he knew things wouldn’t stay that way for long, if Bobby’d his way about it.


	16. Sixteen

Richie wasn’t disappointed in getting his chanceta finally Return the sentiment that Night after being put to bed, which was a couple hours after the Michaels family headed back home. He’d certainly surprised his pint-sized lover, who’d originally looked confused since he didn’t speak a lick of Italian any more than he had, hims-elf before that afternoon. When he’d managed to translate what he’d said with a giggle, the poor guy’s jaw’d dropped straight down to the floor by the edge of their bed. That definitely hadn’t been what he’d expected when he’d mumbled those three words as he made himself comfortable, which hadn’t lasted long after getting that translation.

Bobby’d been absolutely elated when he’d finally Returned the sentiment, even if it’d originally been in another language and required a translation. Now that he knew _what_ he’d said to him, though, he couldn’t care less if he learned how to say it in Swahili, too–he just loved hearing him say it. Granted, that’d made them go from settling down for bed to having a bit of a raunchy Night–even though it was a tender one–when the kiss he gave him turned a bit heated.

It’d taken a couple more hours after things took their passionate turn before both were sated and worn out enough to zonk almost as soon as they settled comfortably. They’d barely noticed as the pint-sized guitarist settled so that he was sprawled out on his back, his rhythmic counterpart snuggling against his side. With his head on the younger toddler’s chest so that he could hear his heartbeat, he didn’t particularly care about much else, if one didn’t count pulling the covers up. Aside from that, he was content just to be in his arms, feeling a stronger bond than ever, now that he’d Returned his Love in more ways than one.

Neither noticed when they both started glittering sometime in the middle of the Night, both sleeping so deeply, they prolly coulda slept through even Zach pouncing on them. They definitely didn’t notice when their legs wound up so long, they hung over the footboard of their massive toddler bed from the knee down. In fact, they didn’t even notice how all their joints wound up aching like they woulda, if they’d been even half-awake.

_“Mmmm.”_

Richie actually startled himself awake the next Morn, not even realizing that it was his own soft moan that’d dragged him from the Depths of sleep. He’d gotten so used to his much higher-pitched toddler voice that he almost thought he’d heard the drummer moan–but that didn’t make any sense, even though he was still more asleep than he wasn’t. Trying to squirm into a comfier position not only made him bump his head on the headboard, but also made him aware of the rug under his feet that was under the bed.

Sitting up with a gasp, he regretted giving his lover a rude wake-up call, but he was both shocked and elated by what he saw. Gone were the short torso and limbs that left him standing about three feet tall and barely able to reach anything or keep up with Rikki’s long strides without running. Just like they’d been roughly two months ago, his legs and torso made him nearly five and a-half feet tall without his head and neck being added to them, just like they were supposed to. Looking down at his hands revealed a span of nearly a foot from the very edge of his wrists to the tips of his middle fingers instead of that span being only a few inches in length, all said and done.

“Holy shit.”

Turning to look beside him at those two words, he laughed when he saw the look on Bobby’s face, which was one of startled surprise. His eyes were as wide as dinner plates, but crossed so he’d no doubt be seeing double as he looked down toward his own mouth. Scrambling into a sitting position, he started looking and patting himself over before letting out an excited hoot and flopping back on their toddler bed.

Unable to help a laugh, the younger guitarist leaned down to give him a true _good-Morn_ kiss, knowing exactly how he felt. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was relieved to be back to normal after two months of being trapped in a toddler’s body and relying on othersta care for him. Gods only knew _he_ felt that way himself, so he didn’t see any reason why the bassist wouldn’t–especially since this was the second Time he’d been through this living nightmare. What mattered to prolly both of them more was that they were still alive and with each other, ’cuz it coulda been a whole lot worse than just being toddlers.

“Good Morn to _you,_ too, hon,” Richie chuckled as he sat up again.

“Gods, it feels _amazing_ to be an adult again,” he laughed, sitting up and tucking his nipple-length, wavy hair behind his ears. “Fuck, my own hair feels like an alien now!”

“I’m sure it does,” the young virtuoso agreed with a laugh of his own as he irritably brushed his own over his shoulder. “Soft as it is, mine does, too.”

“And just being able to _talk_ again instead of screaming and squealing–absolutely priceless!” Bobby said.

“Amen to that,” he agreed, grinning.

“So mote it be, as Kelcey’d say,” the bassist chuckled. “But same difference, if ya ask me.”

“Oh, thank God–I’m _not_ losing my fuckin’ mind.”

Looking toward the door, they saw Rikki’d apparently been woken up by their laughter and come to investigate hearing voices that obviously _didn’t_ belong to a pair of toddlers.

“Top of the Morn to ya, asshat!” Bobby laughed as he mock saluted him.

“Dude, pull the covers over yourselves or get some of your adult clothes outta your closet!” the drummer laughed. “Nobody wantsta see your dicks!”

“Well, I can think of one person who doesn’t mind seeing it,” he retorted with a snicker. “And nobody askedja to barge in.”

“He’s a point, man,” Richie chuckled, even as he pulled the covers over both their laps.

“I’m not even gonna ask–not after the Midnight hand-jobs I’ve helped both of y’all clean up from,” he laughed. “I’d rather go pull his bed frame down from the attic, then go get wasted to celebrate even being able to again!”

“Have fun with that,” the young virtuoso told him. “But I wouldn’t recommend opening that door without knocking again.”

Rikki practically screamed and slammed the door shut as he bolted, not wanting to know what the hell he Intended to do to and/or with his rhythmic counterpart. Bobby couldn’t help cracking up, especially when he saw that he’d even locked the doorknob before he’d jerked the door shut behind himself. He was a bit too sore for anything beyond a blow-job after the previous Night, and he knew damn good and well he wasn’t gonna get a chanceta Top the other brunette.

But Richie actually didn’t have anything sexual on his mind, despite being nekkid in bed beside the man who’d become his lover. What was on his mind was actually far more serious, ’cuz it was pretty obvious that they’d some strong sexual chemistry between them. He was more interested in finding out if he _really_ loved him, or if his feelings’d Changed, now that they’d woken up normal again.

“I hate to spoil such an awesome moment, but I gotta ask,” he said on a sigh. “Does waking up normal again Change _anything_ between us, or not?”

“I oughta kick ya outta bed and dump your ass for even asking me that,” Bobby chuckled. “Toddlers or adults, my feelings’re the same, andja shouldn’t have to ask such a thing.”

“Hey, ya can’t blame me for wanting confirmation,” the young virtuoso retorted, frowning.

“I don’t blame ya, but I also wasn’t lying every Time I’ve said that I love ya,” he told him. “Ya can’t paint _every_ guy or girl with the same dirty paintbrush, or you’ll wind up with what looks like a canvas of mud instead of a masterpiece, so to speak.”

“True enough, I suppose,” Richie agreed, managing a smile. “I guess it’s just that I know we were both stressed out the last couple months from being stuck in the bodies of toddlers.”

“Oh, I won’t deny _that!”_ the bassist laughed. “There’s not much that gets more stressful than needing your friend to wipe your ass for ya ’cuz ya lack the coordination to do it yourself!”

He couldn’t help a laugh of his own as he wrapped an arm around his rhythmic counterpart’s shoulders.

“But stressed out from all that shit or no, I don’t lie about my feelings,” Bobby said. “It might take me a while to open up about them, but I don’t lie once I do.”

_“Mmm,_ I can live happily enough with that,” the young virtuoso told him. “Just like I don’t necessarily need sex to maintain a healthy relationship.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say I’m high-maintenance or anything, but I’ve definitely got my moments,” he warned him with a grin. “Right now just isn’t one of them.”

“Too sore from last Night?” Richie asked, Returning that grin.

“A lil bit, yeah,” the bassist admitted, his cheeks turning a pale pink. “And kid, you’re cutting your nails before your hands come anywhere near _my_ ass again!”

His Melodic counterpart looked a bit confused as he pulled away slightly, which made him chuckle as his _naïvete_ really showed. If it hadn’t been obvious that he’d never been with a guy before, it certainly was now–not that that was a bad thing by any means. It just meant that they both’d quite the learning curve ahead of them, although Bobby’d already figured out a few things from his experimentation. And he was more than willing to teach him what he’d learned, even if they split up in the Future so he could file those things away.

The young virtuoso blushed furiously and apologized profusely when he admitted that his fingernails were just long enough to nick him painfully when he’d push even a single finger into him. But being unable to tell him without those _Scrabble_ tiles, he’d just laid back and put up with it, knowing he’d get a chanceta tell him eventually. Not only that, but he was actually kinda glad that he didn’t have to use those lil Wooden tilesta tell him such intimate things. It meant that Rikki couldn’t sneak up behind them and read what he’d said, considering it was prolly one of the last things the poor guy wanted to know about his friends.

Richie managed another smile as he admitted that he was certainly right about that being a good thing, ’cuz it seemed like the drummer was scarred enough. After all, he’d caught them giving each other hand-jobs–or at least had to help with the aftermath of that–and they’d narrowly dodged him catching them in the middle of a blow-job or two.

“I still don’t like knowing that I hurtcha, even by accident,” he told him.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Bobby said, shooting him a reassuring smile as he made to get up. “I’d do the same thing to _you_ right now, if we reversed the roles.”

“Not gonna happen,” the young virtuoso laughed, even as he leaned forward to give him a quick kiss. “I’ve absolutely _no_ interest in letting another man Top me like that.”

“Never saidja _had_ to–lemme Top ya, I mean,” he chuckled. “I’m just saying that it’d happen till I cut my own nails, so I’m not worrying about it.”

“Fair enough, I guess,” Richie agreed, moving to rise alongside him.

“Hopefully ya won’t need anything but a belt to keep my jeans from falling off ya, at the worst,” the bassist said, opening his closet door. “’Cuz unless ya wanna wear Rikki’s clothes instead, mine’re your only option besides running around nekkid right now.”

“I think we’re about the same size, so they oughta work,” he told him. “I’d definitely rather _not_ run around nekkid in front of Rikki.”

“I doubtedja would,” Bobby said with a snicker. “Only reason _I_ did for a few minutes last Summer was ’cuz he walked in on me changing Zach’s diaper before I could find a towel or something to wrap around myself.”

The young virtuoso couldn’t help a laugh as he took the clothes he held out to him, then turned to head for the adjoining bathroom. Even the thought of the poor drummer being exposed to his friend’s nudity for just a couple minutes, if that was too funny _not_ to laugh at. Course, he’d no doubt been exposed to it plenty of Times before then, what with all the touring they’d done together over the course of roughly a decade. He didn’t have the slightest doubt that that was the only reason he hadn’t bolted from the room with a girly shriek over it.

After Richie emerged from the bathroom to find a hairbrush and work on taming his bed-head, the bassist headed in to take his turn. He couldn’t help a slight limp, but the soreness he felt from last Night’s shenanigans only served to remind him of just how much fun it’d been. Not only that, but it served as a reminder of just how gentle his Melodic counterpart’d tried to be so he wouldn’t hurt him _too_ much.

Neither one could deny that even though they’d been stressful, the last couple months’d certainly been Enlightening for both of them. They’d learned so much about each other, even if they’d a bit of trouble with actually Communicating since _Scrabble_ tiles could go only so far. Course, in addition to learning about each other, they’d actually taught the blonde half of their band more about themselves, as well as learned more about said blondes. Both felt that they couldn’t go anywhere but forward and higher from here, and even if things didn’t work out professionally, they certainly hoped they did on a personal level.


End file.
